The Butterfly Effect
by Travelilah
Summary: Travelling through time has side effects such as memory loss, erasure of timelines and a really bad headache. Unfortunately, that wasn't mentioned in the book that sent Hermione back to 1976. Sirimione. Student/Teacher relationship. Time Travel.
1. Time and Time, again

Hi all. Welcome to my first HP fan fiction :) Thank you to all the betas that have proofread this chapter for me time and time again. Love your stuff and hope to keep working with you as this story goes on.

I do not own Harry Potter - but I wish I did.

 **Chapter One**

 _Time and Time, again._

It was still dark out and well before dawn as Hermione slowly ambled her way down the main corridor of the first floor, heading in the direction of the library. Her wand was in front of her and a soft Lumos charm at its tip lit her way through the dark halls. She ignored the protests of various portraits about the light as she passed by, too occupied by the fact that today was that day. Graduation day. Far too soon for her liking, her last day at Hogwarts had come around.

The ceremony was to be held later that day, and as expected everybody was going to be there for her. Harry, the Weasleys and even Ron, who had been avoiding her like the plague since they had broken up. All the important people in her life would be on the lawns of Hogwarts – everyone except her parents. That was a hard fact she had been forced to swallow a long time ago. It was the price of obliviating them, but she still wouldn't change it, as it meant they had been safe and would continue to be as such.

After the war she had returned to Hogwarts, determined to complete the seventh year of study, making sure that she had a complete education. But on a deeper level, Hogwarts was the one place that she had felt like she would be safe. It had provided her with a sanctuary of comfort and familiarity as she recovered from mental and physical scars of war that she had been left with. It had taken months of work, but she finally felt like she was in a better place. Not good, but better.

However, there were some things that were not going to just fade away. A quick glance at her left forearm reminded her of that. Beneath her sleeve, she knew lay the fresh-as-the-day-it-was-carved wound. The word 'Mudblood' was a dark red that stood out horribly against her pale flesh.

She had been quite self-conscious about the scar at first, and it had only been made worse by the fact that no combination of healing potions or medical spells had been able to make it go away. Quite often did she wage an internal way over it – her vanity vs. her pragmatic side, as the appearance of it was terrible and would not improve over time. But it was the memories of how she got the scar that caused her more trouble than the actual wound itself.

Whenever she looked at it or ever just caught a glimpse, she would feel sick and ashamed. Even right now her stomach was starting to churn and her hands would no doubt soon begin to tremble as her body remembered the pain of the cursed blade sinking into her skin and being dragged across it. She would also sometimes remember the Cruciatus curse that had been inflicted upon her by the mad witch on the quest to get information out of her about the sword and the cup. Her feeling of helplessness would then surface, and she would be drowning – not able to do anything to stop the pain or save herself or her friends. So many nightmares she had about that day, one of them been the cause of her wakefulness at this hour.

Just as she turned a corner she felt the tell-tale signs of an episode beginning to come on. The hand that held her wand was shaking like a leaf, her heart was racing, and she could feel iron bars been pushed against her sides, constricting her breathing into short, sharp rasps.

She came to a halt in the middle of the corridor and bit her lip as a memory of Bellatrix swam to the surface of her mind. She closed her eyes and took a deep breath in and out to expel the thought. At first, this technique, that Madam Pomfrey taught her had not done anything for her, the traumatic memories not allowing themselves to be easily banished. But as time had passed, she had gotten a better handle on herself and had learned to overcome the dark reminiscences that sought to bury her in the past.

On the second exhale, she opened her eyes and cast her eyes around her. She breathed in and out once more, letting the air course through her lungs. In and out. She blinked slowly and took in the stone walls, carpet floors and paintings that were complaining about the rude interruption of their sleep. She was at Hogwarts, not Malfoy Manor. She was safe, no danger was around. Confirming these facts to herself until she believed them with absolute certainty, Hermione felt herself relax.

Her hand stopped trembling and her heart, while still racing, was starting to slow. She shook her head as she fought to rid the vestiges of the memory from her mind. Trying to think of something else, Hermione remembered once more what day it was. Her final day in Hogwarts. Meaning the final day to access the library.

The strength of that thought was enough to have her straighten up and continue at a brisk pace towards the library, not wanting to miss a moment more than what her little episode had annoyingly cost her. Although she loathed admitting it, those little episodes, as she had come to call them, were still quite a frequent occurrence and while they were manageable at school, being out of school, she did have reservations about how she would handle them, not to mention other people.

Finally reaching the library, Hermione looked around at the place that had been her haven and essentially her second home over these last eight years. Hundreds of hours she had spent amongst these shelves of dust and magic and it near made her cry standing here. This really was going to be her last time and chance to be surrounded by such levels of knowledge, but also a place that she knew had ensured her livelihood these past years. Not wanting to linger anymore, she swept past the check-out desk and the main study section, making her way to the back of the library.

She pushed gently on the framed doors of the Restricted Section, the hinges made slight creaks of complaint as they swung shut behind her. She didn't even wait to make sure she heard the doors relock before she starting heading deeper into the section. Right now she just couldn't bring herself to care if another student gained unauthorised access to the library - after all it was her last day and wasn't going to be her problem for much longer.

She took her time to get to the row of shelves that she needed, running her hands along the study desks, feeling all of the groves, bumps and dips that had been etched into the wood by students quills over the years. Feeling the initials H.P at one point had the nostalgia well up tenfold in her throat, pushing her restraint for keeping the tears at bay.

She stopped at the end of the tenth row of cases and then made a right. She didn't need to check the reference listing that was pinned to the end to know that she was in the right area. Standing on her tiptoes she began to search the shelves for the book that she was after.

About halfway down the middle of the shelves and on the top shelf, she found it. Reaching up, she extracted the book that she had been saving as her last read at Hogwarts. The book was heavy, but no stranger to weighty tomes, she carried it with ease back to the study desks and placed it on the desk with a gentle thud.

The wooden chair magically pulled itself out, and she took a seat. It's hard-wooden back as familiar to her as the wood of her own wand, which she had placed on the desk next to the book. It was always best to have it handy when dealing with books from the Restricted Section; the last one she read had attempted to attach itself to her hand, permanently.

Once she was all settled in and had the cushioning charm setup just how she liked it, Hermione let herself study the book. The book was made out of leather, that much she could tell. She reached a hand out and ran it over the cover of the book. The leather was a dull black and from the feel of it, she could affirm that it wasn't human. Murmuring a praise to Merlin for that small miracle, she moved on to tracing the title that had once been embossed in gold, Time and Time, again by Cassilda Willowspine.

Hermione had read her other work in preparation for getting around to reading this book and amongst reviews of her works, she noticed there had been quite a few rumours that Cassilda had somewhat lost the plot. Opening the book and seeing the preface as "Dedicated to my darling Kneazle: Sir Whiskers" it seemed that those rumours might just possibly be true. But not letting that deter her enthusiasm Hermione ran her hand over the musty ribbon that hung out the side of the book. She then let out a loud sigh of resignation and finally cracked open the cover of the last book that she would ever read at Hogwarts.

* * *

 _Time travel is quite simple to understand. All you need is an anchor and using yourself as the rudder you can sail through the waves of time. But be careful not to create too many ripples, as on the surface it will be calm, but after a while, it can become all-consuming as a tidal wave._

Dawn had broken long ago and the morning sun was filtering in through the library but she still was not having any luck making sense of the words in front of her. She was deep in chapter seven and her spark of delight for the book had well and truly faded. Instead, it had been replaced with the worst headache. Her brain throbbed – almost as if it were trying to escape from being inside her skull and to not have to bear the torture of reading this book any longer.

"One more chapter, you can do it. Just one more and then you can stop," she murmured to herself, hoping to stir some half-hearted resolve so that she could propel herself through the remaining pages she intended to read as quickly as possible.

When Hermione had first heard about the book she had been ecstatic. Since her third year, time magic had always been a special interest of hers and she was always keen to get hands on any book about the topic. Most of them were decent and sound in their theories, but there were always the odd ones like this that were a source of disappointment.

Deciding that she couldn't stand a moment longer reading the drivel, she closed the book. She let out a defeated sigh and closed her eyes as she brought both hands up to rub her temples.

Her forehead was pounding and she grit her teeth as the pain continued to spike. She groaned as a particularly nasty bit of pain flared up from behind her eyes. She lowered her head to the desk and clenched her eyes shut. This was the last thing she needed today. A bloody migraine brought on by trying to understand an unfathomably stupid book.

Opening her eyes by a smidgen, she looked down at the book, scowling at the morning light refracted of a bit of gold that was left on the front cover. Her eyes narrowed as more gold slowly spread across the leather and wove itself into intricate rows of runes and symbols up and down the front cover.

"What in the name of Merlin?" she whispered, her interest in the tome suddenly renewed.

Drawing her wand up, she tapped it gently against the book, waiting with baited breath to see if it would do anything. A few seconds passed and nothing. The newly revealed runes stayed where they were, shining with glee in the rays of morning light.

She quickly opened the book again to the page she had last been on and got a lovely surprise. Notes and scribblings filled the margins, but rather than in gold they were silver and from the looks for it, in English - meaning that she wasn't going to have to go and find a Runes reference book to translate it all. She was a bit concerned that these notes had not revealed themselves initially, but she cast that thought aside, more excited to potentially get something worth her time from the book.

Diving back in Hermione was quickly disappointed again. The notes didn't hold anything new or different to what was already written in the text. Frowning, she flipped to a random page to see what she could find. Doing so put her on page four hundred and there was indeed more writing, but it was messier than Ron's and it was partially smudged, making it an arduous task to try and make it out.

" _Priore ad stationem_ ," she read aloud. It sounded like a spell, but it wasn't any that she had ever heard of being used in time travel before.

Shrugging it off, she put her wand back down and using both hands she snapped the book closed. It was getting to the time that she would need to consider getting herself packed up and ready for the graduation ceremony and leaving, she reminded herself sadly.

Making a move to get up, Hermione instantly regretted it as doing so only made the headache that much worse. She lowered her head to rest on the cover of the book, relishing the cool feel of the leather against her face. She stayed like that for a few more moments before raising herself to try and getting up again, only to fail once more as her ears popped and her vision got blurry.

"Oh no," she had time to quickly mutter before one last sharp bit of pain knifed itself into the back of her neck and she lost consciousness.

* * *

Coming to, Hermione felt like her neck was stiffer than a plank of wood and her mouth tasted like blood. Raising her head slightly, she found her hair had become stuck to her face with blood. "How did that-," she started to croak out but stopped short when she realised she had a nosebleed while blacked out. Probably from slamming her head into the desk when she passed out.

Lifting her head and body so that she was sitting up fully, Hermione soon wished she had kept her head on the desk. She felt way too dizzy for her liking but determined to push through the sensation. Squinting and blinking, she a look around her. It was certainly bright and horribly so, that much she could tell. Said brightness through indicated that it had to be midmorning at the very least and she had been conked out for a while. It also meant that she was very late for getting ready to go, but she couldn't bring herself to care. Her head was still felt like someone was using it for drum practice.

Wiping the hair away from her eyes and Hermione scowled down at the leather-bound nightmare that drops of her blood had landed on, mingling with the dancing golden runes. She grimaced and cursed at herself as she thought of all the lost time trying to decipher the words.

Mustering what little strength she had left, she rose to her feet and tucked the chair in under the desk. Gathering the book and her wand, she moved to return the book to its rightful place on the shelf, rather than letting the magic of the library return it.

Slotting the hardcover back into its spot, she took a moment to pause. Every movement was taking considerable effort. In fact, she had not felt this drained since the War, which she knew was something that should have her worried, but again the effort of doing so was beyond her right now. Her mind just as foggy and left her unable to piece together a plan for getting back to her dormitory.

Turning back around to exit the Restricted section, Hermione was helpless to stop the run the dark-haired student from running into her. They had their head down, attention fully affixed to the large piece of parchment that they had in their hands. With an oomph, she was knocked down, her arse colliding with the hard oaken floorboards. Upon impact, she couldn't help but cry out, "Seriously?"

Hermione was fuming. She still had a migraine which had made her faint and now being run into and ending up on the floor? Today was really just not her day and she felt her temper flare. She was going to tell the inattentive idiot off and to get their head out of the clouds and pay more attention to their surroundings.

She raised her head, ready to tell them off. She took them in as her eyes travelled up. They had grey slacks, Gryffindor tie that was undone, hanging loosely around their neck and the top few buttons were undone revealing the start of smooth tanned skin. The broad shoulders revealing it was certainly a male student. Then there came the long dark hair that framed a strong jawline and grey eyes and... She stopped breathing as she took in the student fully. She couldn't believe. She wouldn't believe it, because standing before her with a hand extended out to help her up was Sirius Black.


	2. Pitching Tents: A Guide

**Hello all, thanks for being here for Chapter 2! I am excited for you guys to finally be meeting Sirius! Before the actual chapter though, I do need to give shout-outs.**

 **To my Alpha reader: Bahowle, the Werefloof, this dude it the very best - like no one ever was! He motivates me and like any Hufflepuff, is a loyal and amazing friend. All the head pats for you.**

 **To my Betas: mrsblack0905 - thank you for being there and talking to me all the way through the edits! She is an amazing writer herself and you should go and check out fic: The Correction of Time. She is also the best for talking through new plunnies.**

 **Beatlechicksteph: Thank you for your edits and comma fixes - the chapter would not be looking so good without you. She is an amazing crossover writer - Supernatural and Marvel stuff. Go read it ASAP!**

 **Crochetaway: This lady, wow. She has the patience of a saint, she went through my chapters with a red pen and ripped it to shreds. Over 93 edits in one go and I couldn't be happier to have her looking at my work. She has that awesome factor!**

 **drwatsonn: Thank you so much for dealing with my nagging and questions about dialogue! I appreciate it very much and look forward to working with you more and talking your ears off about Hobbits!**

 **With all of that said, I just need to lastly mention that the chapter titles in this story are named for books that pop up in that Chapter.**

 **Enjoy and please feel free to send through any critique or criticism, as I always love the chance to improve on my writing.**

 **Chapter Two**

 _Pitching Tents: A Guide to Living Outdoors_

Today was officially Sirius' best last day of school ever. Normally he loathed the end of the school year as it meant another two months trapped in a house with his family - also fondly referred to by him as the most self-righteous elitist twats in Europe. But this year was going to be different. He had sent an owl off to Walburga earlier that morning telling her that he wouldn't be coming home and that she could suck a Mountain Troll's dick. When the return Howler had come at lunch, he muttered a quick _Incendio_ , not caring about the angry wails that came from the withering pile of ash on the table or the fact he was probably banished from the family all together. He no longer gave a fuck about what Walburga thought or did.

Today was also the day that all of his hard work had paid off. Nearly six months of bloody love letters, silly flowers, over the top flirting, and trips to Hogsmeade had all led to this delightful moment; where Sirius Black had Marlene McKinnon pressed up against a bookcase, skirt shoved up and his head between her legs, devouring her with broad sweeps of his tongue.

He admitted that while Marlene had undoubtedly played hard to get, in the end, she was no match for his charm or determination. With the way that she was moaning as well, it was doubly worth it. Merlin, it also made him appreciate the forethought to find a quiet spot for this to play out. The idea had come to him when Remus had come back from studying one day, complaining about needing a permission slip and a spelled key to get into the Restricted Section. A bit of chocolate bribery to Remus and a promise to return the key ensured that he wouldn't be having any rude interruptions, as he had the last time that he tried to have a romantic moment. It had been ruined by James walking in on him and a seventh year Hufflepuff girl, in his bed in the heat of things. Sirius had thought the wanker was going to be in detention for the rest of the evening, but no, the bugger had somehow managed to get off early and destroyed what would have been a pleasurable evening.

 _Ugh, why am I am thinking about my best mate right now?_ Sirius thought with disgust. Trying to get back to the task at hand, he gave a little nibble that had the witch going up an octave in her moans. He wanted to make sure that he put his all into this. It was his last shag of the year that he was trying to fit in - he smirked to himself midlick at that pun - before the Summer holidays and a whole two months of forced abstinence, if Euphemia Potter had her way. His kissing slowed down, as the unwelcome thought of his best mates mother entered his mind. Merlin, what was wrong with him? Thinking of this sort of shit while he was with a bird.

Seeming to sense that his mind was elsewhere Marlene, threaded her fingers through Sirius' hair and with a gentle pull forced him to meet her lust filled gaze.

"What are you thinking about?" she whispered, voice husky.

"Nothing at all," he replied with a smirk, darting in with a cheeky lick.

"If you would rather be doing something else…" she trailed off, unable to finish her sentence as Sirius returned to what he was doing. Although, it was probably time to speed things up.

Withdrawing his mouth, Sirius ignored the mewl of protest and stood. He pushed Marlene harder into the bookcase and as she opened her mouth, he turned any further protests into moans by kissing her pale throat and gently sucking on the skin just below her ear. He soon trailed his mouth down to her collarbone and flicked his tongue which elicited another soft moan. Doing so forced her to thrust her head back. As she did, he heard the soft thump of her hitting the hard wood of the bookcase. A book came tumbling down and collided with his forehead.

"Fuck," he grunted, pulling away at the pain shooting through his temple.

The lack of attention was certainly noticed by Marlene, as she rolled her hips into him and whispered a breathy complaint. "Why do you keep stopping?"

He chuckled darkly and replied, "Because, love," he nipped at her ear, "I think we need to relocate to somewhere else, so that one of us doesn't end up with a concussion."

She pouted at him. "It was an accident."

"I know, I know. But still wouldn't you rather be somewhere, a bit more comfortable?"

Her eyes lit up at the suggestion. "You mean your bed?"

"Sorry, love, that option isn't on the table," he replied, moving forward to start kissing her neck again but stopped, as the last word sank in. _The table._ Sweet Circe, he was a genius. Diving back into a kiss, Sirius gripped her hips and made the gesture to lift her. Getting the hint, Marlene was quick to wrap her legs around his waist, allowing him to then fully lift her up. He carried her a few paces over to a study desk that was covered in stacks of books, no doubt left out by some silly Ravenclaw trying to fit in a last minute study session. He put her down, not caring about knocking several of the book towers over or others that ended up on the floor. He was much too concerned with trying to coordinate the unbuttoning of Marlene's white blouse and getting to the what lay beneath.

Her hands were also making short work of his shirt and Merlin, the witch was already onto his belt, unbuckling it with suspiciously practised hands. The clack of the Restricted Section key in his pockets hitting the floor had him remembering that there was something that needed to be done before they went much further. So while he still had the mental fortitude to do so, he pulled back from the kiss to take a breath and to gaze down at her. Good Godric, it was a fantastic view and he quickly forgot what he had intended to do. Marlene's honey-blonde hair was no longer in its neat french braid, thanks to his efforts and her lips, puffy and swollen, could definitely be attributed to him. She was a right sight to take in. Said lips were frowning up at him, evidently less than pleased at the intermission.

His next concern was to get her out of that horrible bra that concealed what Sirius knew to be two twin peaks of delight. Reaching behind her he unclasped the undergarment with a quick flick of his nimble fingers. Tossing it to the side, he brought both hands up to cup her breasts, he moved straight to nipples which were already pebbled with desire. A pinch here and a flick there nearly had her coming undone.

Sweet Salazar, it was going to be over before it even began at this rate. Deciding that wouldn't do, Sirius pushed forward until he was standing between Marlene's legs. Her head which had been thrown back suddenly snapped back up, her eyes trained downwards. His cock was currently pressed up against the inside of her thigh, and from the look on her face it might as well have been the Giant Squid.

"Shit," he muttered, at realising he had almost forgotten something very crucial. Out of habit, his hand went to the back of him to pull his wand from the pocket, but his pants were already on the floor. Not wanting to go through the effort of having to fish the wand out of his pocket, he cast a quick non-verbal, " _Accio_ " that had the Map and his wand floating up to his hand. Throwing the Map onto the table, he waved his wand quickly and with a muttering of, " _Tueri prolis,_ " they were safe. Sirius sure as hell didn't want to be a father anytime soon and from how Marlene appraised him and didn't complain, she was quite grateful for that as well.

Done with the spell, Sirius went to put his wand on the table and arrange the Map to still be within view, being as subtle as he could. Thankfully, she was more focused on rubbing the tip of her thumb against the head of his cock, her intent very clear. Looking down at the witch with appreciation, he managed to get out, "We are up to no good," before casting the wand aside fully and focusing back on Marlene.

"Enough of that now," he pulled her hands away and used his own hand to rub his tip against her outer sex. He pushed the tip in a bit, testing the waters and making sure to gauge her response to the intrusion.

Still, Sirius made sure to ask, "Should I keep going?" He may be a right prick at times, but he was always a gentleman with regards to this. Because while you can take the stick out of a pure-blood's arse you, can't remove the etiquette lessons that were imprinted upon his brain for life.

Nodding and licking her lips with anticipation, Marlene rolled her hips forward. His cock sinking deeper into her core and he couldn't hold back the groan that rippled up through his chest. Merlin, the heat always got him. Staring into her eyes, Sirius reached around and pulled her forward so that her bum was on the edge of the table.

Once she was close enough, Sirius pushed forward and filled her in one move. He always found it better to get it over and done with, but from the lack of reaction, he would guess that she wasn't in that much pain, which was odd, as she had claimed this to be her first time. Sirius took that as the sign that he didn't have to hold back, as he would have to with a first timer, which was quite frustrating at times, when he really just wanted a decent fuck.

With no warning, he pulled back and slammed in again. A sharp inhale and squeak from her confirmed that she hadn't been expecting that. So he set a hard and fast pace. The sound of their slapping skin echoing around them and shared moans of pleasure joined the chorus.

Feeling that Marlene was getting tighter by the second Sirius slowed the pace a bit, using just the tip to tease her. It certainly worked because she was begging in record time. " _Please…Please!"_

"Please what?" he replied, slowly sliding in halfway before withdrawing altogether.

Apparently not wanting to play his game Marlene slowly leaned back onto the desk and spread her legs even wider in invitation. Looking up at him through her lashes, she blinked slowly and waited. One of them was going to cave and bloody hell, it was him that gave in first by plunging back into her depths. She was soon arching her back off the table with pleasure at his quick strokes, while he was bent over her, licking and kissing her breasts with great enthusiasm.

He then heard the slight rip of paper. "Piss it," he mumbled against her nipples and cracked an eye open to see what the sound was.

The Map. She was ripping the bloody Map. Somehow in the throes of pleasure, she had managed to get her hands around it and was tugging on it. He had tucked it neatly under one of the remaining stacks of books, thinking that it would be safe. Clearly not.

Reaching a hand up to glide along her slender arm, he smiled down at her as she giggled at his caress. Interlocking his fingers with hers, he was able to get her hands off the Map. He then gathered both of her wrists with his hand and pinned them together in the one spot. She grinned at him wickedly, approving of the change in direction.

He couldn't help but cast a quick glance to the side once more to assess the damage. The Map looked to be alright at first, but as his eyes trailed over it, he caught sight of his doom. Merlin, he was fucked. Figuratively this time. There was a very noticeable tear at the bottom of the Map. His groan of frustration mistaken for one of pleasure by Marlene who had continued to fuck herself with his cock while he had been distracted.

Subtly trying to get a closer look, he leant forward and took an earlobe between his lips. He cast his eyes over the Map once more and instantly zeroed in on the page that had fallen open.

His eyes widened in horror, and he moaned into Marlene's ear. There was some tosspot in the library with them. Right now. They had just randomly popped up, the telltale footprints of a person, marching in place. What was odd though was the lack of name hovering above the person. It was just blank...But then again it had been acting up ever since Peter spilt that bloody potion over it the other day. He held his breath in anticipation. Maybe it was just the Map acting up, a false alarm and he could keep going...but no, he wasn't going to be that lucky or finish getting lucky today.

Sirius ripped his mouth away from Marlene's neck and snarled with frustration as the little footprints started to make their way towards where they were. "Bugger," he groaned and flopped his head down to rest on Marlene's shoulder.

"Sirius?" He lifted his head to gaze into her half-lidded blue eyes. She frowned as she read the concerned look on his face. "What is that face for? What's wrong? What's happening?"

Ah shit. He didn't know how he was going to cover his tracks on this one. While he liked to think he knew everything - he needed a decent excuse on how he knew someone was heading this way. Not having much time Sirius just raised his hand to his mouth is _shushing_ gesture, ignoring the insulted look on her face.

He cocked his head, pretending to listen carefully. He then widened his eyes in theatrical alarm. "You hear that?"

"Huh?"

"I think I can hear-"

"I can't hear anything," she countered. Merlin. He shook his head, groaning in frustration. Why was she making this difficult?

"Someone is heading this way," he whispered.

"Huh?" Her forehead crinkled in confusion before her face went blank. "How can you hear them?" she asked suspiciously.

"Er, I, uh-I have really good hearing," he responded lamely; holding his breath and hoping that she bought it. Admittedly, it was a pretty dumb excuse, but as long as she fell for it.

"Hmm. Is that so?" Still giving him a piercing look through now icy eyes, she didn't say anything else, but nodded her head at his answer and sat up as well. He let out a small sigh of relief and bent down to grab his trousers. He would need to get dressed quickly to vacate the scene of the crime - because the last thing he wanted was to be heading home with a month of detentions under his belt for next year.

Once they were both fully clothed again and just doing up their buttons, Sirius quickly grabbed her hand and pulled it up to his mouth, placing a gentle kiss on the back of it. Throwing in all of the charm he could muster he confessed, "I didn't want to stop, love, believe me."

Looking him over, her hard gaze softened and she raised herself up on her toes to give him a quick peck on the lips. "It's okay," she said, pulling back, "you can make it up to me later…"

He grinned at the thought of getting another shot with her. "Sounds like a-" he was cut off by Marlene leaning in to kiss him again. He really wanted to deepen it but with the fact that someone was heading this way, prevented it from happening.

Cutting her off, he pushed her away with both hands on her shoulders. She made a little whine of complaint but grabbed her wand that had fallen to the floor before looking up at him with this rather odd..hopeful expression. Merlin, he really didn't like the gleam that was in her eyes either. He had seen it before when a crazy bird wanted more than he was willing to give or worse thought that they could peg him down.

"You will owl me won't you? Over the summer?" And there it was. The desperation was out in the open, and any plans Sirius had of following this through shattered into a million pieces.

"Sure, sure." He nodded. He glanced back down at the Map again and saw that they needed to pick up the pace. The footprints were nearly there. Neither of them were meant to be in this part of the library and getting caught by someone was not an option. "Quick," he hissed to Marlene and darting over to the third bookcase lining the wall. Reaching up to the top shelf, he felt along the upper bit of wood until he found a slight knot. Pushing it inwards there was a soft click, and then a creak, and the massive bookcase swung open.

"How long has that been there? How long have you known about it? Have you-"

"No time for questions, love. Follow it through, and you will end up on the fifth floor," Sirius rushed out, shoving her into the passageway, ignoring the hurt look on the witch's face.

Feeling a little bad, Sirius gave her a quick wink and dashing smile. "I'll send you an owl later." One small harmless lie would mean less shit to deal with later. Spinning around Sirius dashed over to the table, grabbed his wand and started to head into the main section of the library.

Map in hand he kept glimpsing down at it, trying to track how close the person was. His mind frantically buzzing with possible scenarios he could present as reasons as to why he was in the Restricted Section with another student's key and without permission, on the last day of school, when the library was meant to be off-limits today to all but select few students.

He had his head turned looking back at the bookcase passage to make sure that it had swung closed when he felt himself collide with something or as it turned out, someone. When he heard a female voice cry out, "Seriously" he couldn't help but smile.

"That's my name," he answered cheekily. His favourite and oldest joke, making his sour mood melt away. Looking down he saw that he had run into a rather fit looking bird that he didn't recognise but he was slightly relieved at the fact that she wasn't a teacher. He offered his hand in a gesture to help her up. But the bird just bloody started at him. "Er, you want a hand?"

Still no response. She was actually staring at his hand now, so he gestured for her to take it.

"It isn't going to bite," he insisted and couldn't help but tack on the end, "Well only if you asked nicely." He had a small smirk on his face by the time he had finished speaking that quickly shifted to a grimace of concern at the girl's response to him.

She was profusely shaking her head and looking at him with such fear. Almost as if he was a bloody Death Eater or something equally heinous. Not sure of what his next move should be Sirius decided the best approach would be to take it gently.

"Did you bump your head, love?" He traced her features and he couldn't see any blood which was a good sign, but again the look of sheer panic and fear in her eyes had him more worried. What if she was concussed?

Not wanting a head injury on his hands, he made to take a step closer, but the bird propelled herself back before he had the chance. Her back hit the bookcase and again with the staring at him like he was the crazy one. Merlin, was she shaking?

Not understanding in the slightest what was going on, Sirius put most of his effort into trying to be non-threatening - like he would a stray animal, just because those were the vibes that she was giving off at the moment. So he crouched down until he was as close to her level as possible. "Do you need help?"

Again no answer, just more head shaking. What the hell was he supposed to make of that? The bird didn't want his help and wouldn't talk to him. Feeling himself start to lose his composure Sirius stood back up and made one last-ditch attempt out of trying to help the girl out. He liked to think of himself as a gentleman after all.

He extended an arm out again and as he did so, she curled up into a ball. That was it. He lost his temper and snapped down at the girl, "Alright, you don't want to take my hand. You don't want my help, I get it." He pulled his hand back. "Should have just told me to piss off, didn't need to act like I have Dragon Pox."

More silence, more looking him up and down with judgy brown eyes. After a few seconds, he quickly decided he was done. This bloody nutter had interrupted his chance with Marlene and didn't want his help? Why the hell should he stick around?

Flicking his hair out of his eyes, he turned around, and stalked off to the entrance of the Restricted Section, all the while muttering to himself. "Stopped for nothing, now can't finish the list until next year."

Pulling the door of the Restricted Section shut behind him, Sirius put his hands in his pockets, double checking that he still had Remus' key and felt himself go still has his hands touched the rough parchment of the Map. He scrunched his face up in realisation. He was going to have to try and explain to the guys about the tear in the Map. That was not going to be a fun conversation.

* * *

James Potter was sitting in the Gryffindor common room, minding his own business and reading the cartoons at the back of the _Daily Prophet_. He had managed to snag a chair close to the fire. His trunk was next to him, all packed up and ready to head out for the Summer Holidays - which was a miracle in itself, since James was normally never ready for anything until the absolute last minute. A niggle in the back of his mind had him looking up - his senses telling him that something was coming and that bloody divination bint said that he didn't have a gift. Alright, it may have been because he had heard the portrait close and the not so quiet mutterings of his best mate. But he could totally detect the sulky aura of Sirius - who stroppily stomped over to where James was sitting and threw himself back into the high backed armchair that was diagonal to him. The fire cast a dark shadow on his face - tripling the brooding effect that Sirius radiated.

James quirked a dark eyebrow at Sirius. "Who pissed in your pumpkin juice?"

"Bugger off, James. I don't want to hear it," Sirius snarled back, glaring daggers at him.

"Merlin, you don't need to bite my head off, just asking you what's wrong," James snapped back.

"Then don't ask stupid questions, Prongs."

"It was a perfectly valid question, Pads."

Both the boys glared at each other for a while until Sirius grunted and looked away, gazing into the fire.

"You are in a mood aren't you?" James observed, eyes raking over his friend once more.

More silence. Good thing that James was well versed on how to deal with cantankerous Purebloods. "Pads. Pads. Pads. Padfoot. Sirius. Sirius." All they needed was a bit of prodding, and he had made sure to punctuate each word with a physical poke.

Sirius flipped him the bird, not taking his eyes off the fire.

James sighed. "Mate, just tell me what's got your wand in such a knot."

"Nothing," Sirius hissed, getting agitated at the persistence of James.

"Yeah, right," James snorted.

"Just leave it alone, Prongs, alright?"

Like any good friend, James decided that he may as well get to the bottom of what the issue was. Putting the paper down in his lap, he also pushed his glasses down his nose and adopted the concerned, fatherly look and scolding tone to match. "No, I won't leave it alone. Because then I have to put up with you being a sulky prick the whole train ride home. So, cough up. What's wrong?"

"I am not sul-," Sirius started to protest.

James cut him off before he could get his lie out. "Yes, you bloody well are! So stop being a prat and tell me what's wrong."

Sirius, being more stubborn than a hippogriff, again remained steadfast in his silence.

James was going to have to get an answer the hard way. "Sirius Orion Black, if you don't tell me what's wrong I am going to tell McGonagall that you were the one who spelled all the textbooks to say ' _Defence Against the Dark Farts_ '."

Sirius didn't even flinch. Sweet Salazar, he was going to have to pull out the big one. "You are being more dramatic than your mother. Being so broody and snappy and moody..."

There was finally a flash of fire in Sirius' eyes. Ah, it never failed. Best way to get a rise out of him was to compare him to his most hated parent: his horrendous mother.

"You are," James goaded on, "So dramatic that she-"

"Alright, you tosspot! Stop bringing up that banshee already, would you?"

James grinned. "Will you tell me what's wrong?"

"Fuck," Sirius muttered exasperatedly under his breath. "Fine, I will tell you since you have to be such a nosey git!"

"See. Was that so hard? Now, tell dear old James what's wrong." James leaned forward with interest.

"I didn't finish my list," Sirius behoved.

James' eyes went wide with fake horror. "No." Sirius obviously not appreciating the humour glared. James waved him off. "Keep going. Merlin, you are more sensitive than bloody today."

Sirius opened his mouth to retort, but James beat him to it. "Just keep going. I'll behave, promise."

Sirius crossed his arms defensively. "Last shag of the year in the library was ruined-"

 _Right. That would make sense as to why he's so shitty_ , James mused to himself. Sirius always got a little testy when his conquests were interrupted. James still had the scar from a Stinging Hex to prove it actually. Come to think of it...this might be the chance to get back at him.

He couldn't stop the devilish grin that spread across his face. "Mate, you are glorifying your left hand there, a bit. I mean if you want to call it a shag-" James started to say but was cut off by Sirius' own retort.

"You are such a twat! I'm not the one who has a bloody wank sock!"

"I do not!" James protested.

"Prongs, with the number of times you cry out " _Lily_ " while wanking into it...Anybody would wonder if you have actually named it after Evans," Sirius exclaimed, quite loudly, given that he was sitting next to him.

"Ew! POTTER!" James heard Lily shriek in the background and felt blood rushing to his cheeks. He whipped his head around and confirmed that Lily was standing there.

"It's not true. I-I don't! I swear!" he sputtered.

Lily just shook her head and walked away, face nearly as red as her hair. James swivelled back around to see a hugely amused Sirius cackling away at his embarrassment. He leapt to his feet, paper falling to the side and strode over to Sirius, and swiftly gave him a solid punch to his shoulder before going back to his chair, plonking down and grabbing the paper to read it again. Stuff helping his friend now, the troll didn't deserve his sympathy.

"Oh, come on, Prongs," Sirius called out,"She's overheard us say worse shit before! Remember when she heard us talking about your knickers?"

"Piss off, Pads," James hissed back, flipping Sirius off with two fingers. "I was hoping to have a chance of owling her over the Summer but now you have gone and ruined it."

Remus waltz over and interrupted James. He looked at Sirius and back at James, before shaking his head and taking a seat next to James. "What did you say to Evans this time, Pads?"

Sirius half-heartedly grinned back at Moony. "Nothing that bad."

"He told her I have a wank sock named Lily," James deadpanned - looking down at Sirius through his glasses.

"That all?" Remus asked, "You have to realise that isn't the worst thing he has said around her, yeah?"

"Thank you, Moony!" Sirius declared, clapping his hands together in mock applause.

"Listen here, you utter arse, you are meant to take my side in th-" James started to escalate but upon seeing the twinkle in the werewolf's eye cut himself short, realising that Remus was just pulling his tail. Not wanting to give the prat the pleasure of getting a rise out of him James sat his arse back on the chair and took a deep breath.

"Yeah, well you know what? This dramatic dickhead was being all stroppy because he didn't get to finish having a wank in the library," James exclaimed, pointing at Sirius, desperate to have the attention taken off him.

"Fuck off, you twat. I lost my chance with McKinnon because some barmy bird interrupted us!" Sirius blurted out - the mystery of his shittiness finally unravelled.

James and Remus shared a look. They knew how much effort Sirius had put into getting Marlene to do something with him. Sirius had been crowing with glee at breakfast that today would be the day that he completed his quest to bang the busty Ravenclaw.

"Shit, Pads. No wonder you are bloody cranky…" James murmured, nodding in understanding.

"How did you manage to stuff that up?" Remus scoffed. His sympathy for Sirius' manwhoring antics had fizzled out a long time ago.

"Nothing!" Sirius insisted vehemently. "I didn't do anything wrong. Some stupid bird showed up in the library and ruined all my hard work."

"This is why you should have used the Map," James said sagely.

Sirius rolled his eyes at him. "I did use the bloody thing, that's how I saw the twit was heading our way!"

"Yeah, whatever you say, Pads. Like there would be anybody in the Library today," Remus said disbelievingly. "More importantly, have you finished with the Map?"

Sirius expression became oddly blank and he cast his eyes down in an unusually submissive look. Remus raised an eyebrow at their friend. "Pads, are you done with the Map?"

"About that…" Sirius rambled off as he guiltily pulled the Map out from his back pocket, proffering it to Remus. "So before we got interrupted, Marlene may have, sort of...bloody hell, she ripped the Map."

Remus quickly snatched the Map and pulled it open. He instantly zeroed in on the rip at the base of the Map, his face transfixed in horror.

"Look, it will be an easy fix…" Sirius started to say but quickly shut up as Remus' eye start to twitch.

Remus looked up at Sirius, eyes finally coming off the Map and let loose at Sirius. "We can't just cast a fucking _Repairo_ on this or use a bit of spellotape, Sirius! Merlin, it's got more enchantments on it than your Firewhisky stash."

James was quick to chime in, back to the disapproving father look. "Why was Marlene near it in the first place?!"

"I had it out to keep an eye out for people!"

"So. It doesn't excuse you ripping it! All of our hard work..." Remus bemoaned, looking close tears, driving home the stake of guilt to Sirus' heart.

"Hardly worse than when Pete spilt that potion all over it, and she bloody just grabbed it, what was I supposed to do?" Sirius complained.

"Have her grab something else?" James quipped, unable to stop himself from making the joke. Seeing the look that Remus shot him, he quickly wiped the crooked grin from his face. James was never able to be serious for long. Sirius was always the one to hold a grudge.

Quick to move on to another topic, leaving Remus to mourn over the Map, Sirius leaned over to slap James on the knee. "Guess, who's coming to stay with you all Summer, Prongs?"

James pushed Sirius' hand away. "You, who else? Like you did last year and the year before that? Merlin, anyone would think that you are obsessed with me."

"Like anybody would be obsessed with you, you turkey. But your Mum though, she is quite fit…" Sirius waggled his eyebrows at James, "Might get the chance to have a shag before the end of Summer after all."

Remus, out of his period of mourning, added to the banter. "If she doesn't mind visiting you in the doghouse."

"Well out there, at least I don't have to listen to this idiot," he gestured to James, "Snores like a giant, and I can also have all the birds over that I want."

James shook his head. "Good luck sneaking those birds past, Mum."

"It'll be a piece of cake. _I_ won't be in the Manor, so she will have no idea."

"Right. You keep telling yourself that, mate."

Remus chuckled along but soon sobered up. James did not like where this was heading. "But for real Pads, why aren't you staying up in the Manor? You do any other time…"

"Because!"

"Because…" Remus prompted, waving his hand in a gesture for Sirius to carry on.

"I am my own man now. I need my own space, to do manly things," Sirius said in a jokingly deep voice and puffed his chest out for effect.

James raised an eyebrow at Sirius. "You expect us to buy that, Pads?"

"Yeah, nice try, Black, but want to try being honest this time?" Remus said, backing up James' objection.

Sirius sighed and James smirked, he was about to get an actual decent answer. "Honestly, it's only going to be a temporary thing. I am going to be getting a job, soon as I can and getting my own place. No doubt, dear Walburga," Sirius spat the name, "has blasted me off the tapestry and revoked my access to the family vaults, so I need to start saving up for after school. I can't just mooch off the Potter's for the rest of my life. I don't want to be a burden."

James tsked. "You know Mum and Dad don't care."

Sirius didn't say anything.

"Our little boy is growing up, James. He is going to be a big strong independent wizard and live on his own!" Remus joked, reaching out to try and pinch Sirius' cheeks.

"Piss off, Moony," grouched Sirius, waving off Remus' encroaching hand.

"Now, now, Pads. I know that you are planning to stay in the backyard, so I did get a book for you so that you can brush up on your survival skills." Remus produced a book from his pocket, handing it to Sirius, who leaned over to read the title out loud.

" _Pitching Tents: A Guide to Living Outdoors_." He raised both his eyebrows, giving Remus an incredulous look

"Good thinking there, Moony. Our young Sirius will need all the help since the only tent he knows how to pitch is in his pants."

Sirius flipped them both off as Remus high fived James for that last comment.

"What are you lot laughing at?" Peter queried, walking over to the group, having just entered the common room.

"Ah, Pete. Glad you're here mate! So long story short, Sirius here went and buggered up his chances of getting with Marlene this afternoon," James chortled, summarising the most entertaining part of the conversation for the fourth Marauder.

"Yeah, yeah. Keep on gloating, Prongs. Least I got further with McKinnon in six months than you have with Evans in how many," Sirius held up his hand to count, "One, three...oh, right. Six years."

James immediately stopped laughing at the expense of Sirius and rushed to defend his impeded honour. "Because I don't treat Lily like a notch on my bed post, Pads. I am going to spend the rest of my life-"

"Give it a rest, mate," Remus said, cutting James off before he had a chance to get any further into the Lily monologue - which they had all heard enough times that year to last a lifetime.

"Tossers," James muttered before going back to the paper, hiding his annoyance behind the shifting and ever-changing text of the _Prophet_.

"Naw, James, it's okay. We all know you will have some luck one day, I mean you only have to compete against Snape right?" Peter jested, taking his chance to tease their mate. At the lack of reaction, he looked disappointed and but soon perked up when he remembered what he had to share.

"So, guess what I saw on my way back?" Peter asked the group.

Remus shrugged. Sirius playing along, suggested, "Dumbledore doing a nudie streak up the corridor?"

"No, but good guess Pads. Dumbledore is involved, but not quite like that uh...interesting fantasy you have there."

James giggled at hearing that but quickly went quiet again. Peter cast a side-eyed glance at James before continuing. "McGonagall was marching someone up to Dumbledore's office! Like who gets caught and in trouble on the last day of school?" Peter shook his head.

"Ha, what idiot does that?" James burst out.

"You?" Remus answered. "Remember your second year when you put a Sticking Charm on Filch's chair, and he had to hobble down to Hogsmeade with it attached to his arse?"

James fell silent and squinted at Remus. "I will have you know that I have learnt from my mistakes and know better."

The other boys too nodded in agreement, they had learnt their lesson from that. Nowadays, only a fool would get caught by McGonagall, no less, on the last day of school for the year. Everyone knew that it was the day of the year that the Scottish witch was at the end of her tether, keen for a reprieve from a year from dealing with teenagers, specifically a particular foursome of Gryffindor house.

"Well, it's not us, so we don't have to worry," said Sirius dismissively, before gesturing for all of them to lean in closer. "But speaking of being in trouble, I did have an idea for our first prank for next year."

With that topic of conversation, all the boys began to animatedly discuss their options for the prank, none the wiser for what was in store for them next year.


	3. The 20th Century Guide

**Surprise Chapter! Thanks to the betas for making it readable! Those amazing people are: mrsblack0905 (best writing buddy ever), beatlechicksteph, crochetaway and drwatsonn.**

 **Best alpha: Bahowle - the best puff puff around!**

 **Chapter Three**

 _The 20th Century Guide to Teaching Modern Magic_

Hermione still couldn't feel her arse or believe who was standing before her: Sirius Black. She couldn't comprehend it because there was no logical or magical way for Sirius Black to have just run into her and be speaking to her right now. It wasn't possible, because Sirius was dead. He had fallen through the veil three years ago, and there was no way for him to have come back from that. She knew that because she had checked every possible book that she could get her hands on and they all said the same thing: " _Resurrection is not possible once a being has passed through the veil to the other side."_

Her eyes remained fixed on his extended hand, but she didn't dare take it. She had no idea what was happening right now, but she was working her way towards having an episode - her frantic heart rate and quickening breaths all sure signs of that.

"Did you bump your head, love?" Sirius asked softly. "Are you alright?"

His voice. Merlin, his voice. She was hearing it and she shouldn't be. Because people that have been dead for three years weren't meant to be speaking, or alive, for that matter. She risked a glance up at him and saw his stormy grey eyes were full of concern and staring right at her. She knew that he was studying her, no doubt trying to figure why she was reacting to him in such a way.

"Are you alright?" he asked again, making a move to take a step closer to her, but she recoiled before he could even put his foot down. She scuttled back into a bookcase, which was far as she could get from him. Her whole body was trembling.

This couldn't be happening. Why was this happening? Why was she seeing him, after all this time? Why was she hallucinating Sirius Black? The questions went around and around inside her brain on loop, making it increasingly difficult for her to hold herself together.

He crouched down, still a fair distance from her, his brows furrowed in confusion. "Do you need help?"

She still couldn't bring herself to answer him. Her lips were glued shut out of fear. She just shook her head at him, her hair whipping across her face as she did. Creating a curtain of protection from his gaze.

Sirius continued to study her for a few more moments before letting out a huff of air and getting back up. He extended a hand out to her again, the gesture only serving to make her flinch and shrink ever further into the corner, which hadn't seemed possible. She was curled up into a ball now though, knees drawn to her chest, rocking back and forth slightly. She knew it had finally happened. She had gone mental. She thought that she had been getting better, but here she was with her crazy brain bringing people back to life.

She watched the confusion on his face shift into annoyance. "Alright, you don't want to take my hand. You don't want my help, I get it," he said, retracting his hand. "Should have just told me to piss off, didn't need to act like I have Dragon Pox."

Sirius flicked his long hair out of his face, and shoved his hands into his front pockets before stroppily walking off. She managed to catch him muttering under his breath about how she had cost him a chance to check something off a list.

She waited until he was out of sight and she heard the clicking of the Restricted Section door before she bothered moving again. She brought her hands up to her face and ground the heels of her hands into her eyes. Enjoying the pain it brought, knowing that it would clear her vision of any residual ghostly visitors.

Reopening her eyes, she scanned the rows before her. No one else was there. She couldn't hear the turning of pages nor the scritching of quills from study. The silence being the marker that she was alone. With a sigh of relief, Hermione tentatively got up, her legs aching from being curled against the bookcase and hard wooden floor. She was a bit shaky on her knees, but she clung to the bookcase for support as she made her way to the Restricted Section door. It looked perfectly normal - the same as when she had entered through it earlier that morning and not just like the imaginary version of Sirius Black had walked through it.

Not wanting to linger, Hermione made for the exit as quickly as possible. She was heading back to the Gryffindor Common Room, eager to sit down on the plush couches and have a few moments to relax. But she knew that she was also going to have to explain being so late to Ginny, or more to the point, how she was going to bring up that her episodes were again turning into hallucinations. She had only stopped having them two months ago and it had taken so many sessions with the school's new Mind Healer to get to that stage.

Reaching the fourth floor, Hermione felt the walk doing her some good. It was helping to tame her mind. Taking it from a wild galloping Hippogriff back down to the pace of a gentle thestral trotting along. Going by familiar portraits and seeing the easy, idyllic atmosphere of Hogwarts also reassured her that everything was normal. She was managing to talk herself down quite well from the earlier hysteria. Nothing out of place - that small episode in the library was just that - something to be left behind and she could move forward and not let the past hold her back. But the feeling of uneasiness was still not wholly banished and left her slightly on edge.

So lost in her thoughts, she almost didn't spot Professor McGonagall walking down the corridor in the opposite direction. She called out a greeting to the elderly witch. "Morning, Professor. I'll see you at the ceremony later."

The Professor spun her head and glanced at Hermione once and then did a double take, before turning around entirely. "E-excuse me! Stop right there!"

Hermione came to a halt and spun around to walk back over to the teacher.

"Yes, Professor?" she asked, smiling warmly up at McGonagall. But her smile soon faltered due to the odd way McGonagall was giving her. Her lips were more pursed than usual, which meant that something was wrong. "Is everything alright, Professor?"

McGonagall narrowed her eyes and looked Hermione up and down and then squinted at her in what Hermione had to guess to be disdain, a look that was typically reserved for the Weasley Twins. She couldn't help but notice that McGonagall had also taken out her wand, although it remained by her side. "Professor?"

Raising her wand, McGonagall pointed it straight at Hermione. "No, I'm afraid everything is not alright. Would you care to tell me what you are doing walking around and who in the name of Godric you are?"

"Sorry, what?" Hermione couldn't believe what she was hearing. "Professor, it's me, Hermione," she said with as much conviction that she could, while not taking her eyes off the wand.

"Hermione, who?"

"Professor, please, what's going on? What's wrong? Why are you asking me who I am? You know me!" She licked her lips and slowly put her hand into her pocket palming her wand. She had no bloody clue what was going on today, but it was going from weird to worse and she didn't think she could take much more.

"I'm sorry, but I have truly no idea who-"

"Professor, please. This-this isn't funny. Please stop joking."

"I am most certainly not joking. I have no idea who you are, young lady," McGonagall snapped, growing impatient with the girl's antics.

"Professor, it's me, Hermione. You have taught me-"

"I can guarantee that I have never seen you before now, or ever taught you in my time at Hogwarts, thank you very much."

Hermione tried grappling for words but didn't know what to say. There was no way that the Professor could just suddenly forget who she was.

"I am certain that you are not a student and more so an unauthorised-"

"Professor, I am a student! It's graduation day," Hermione cried, tears slipping down her cheeks, finally having reached her breaking point.

Not moved at all by the display of tears, McGonagall brought her wand higher, aiming it more towards Hermione's chest. "You are not here with permission of myself or any other teacher, so I will now be escorting you-."

"Please, I know you, Professor!" Hermione tried once more to plead, shaking her head frantically, beginning to back away, but was stopped short as she quickly found herself backed against a stone wall.

McGonagall followed her retreating steps, eyes steel and face stern. "Please do not argue or make this difficult, I need to bring you with me to-"

"Professor, I don't know what's going on with you, but I promise, you know me. I swear on my magic, I swear to Godric," Hermione insisted, panting in desperation. "Hermione Granger! In third year you-"

"Again, I have never taught you and you are delaying the inevitable with these theatrics." The Professor pushed the tip of her wand into Hermione's shoulder. "Now please, walk with me."

Hermione swallowed a sob and nodded her head, finally turning to follow the older witch down the hallway and through the rest of the corridors until they were in front of the Griffin that lead up to McGonagall's Office.

The Professor casually flicked her wand at the statute. With the sound of grinding sandstone, the magical staircase came to life. Ascending up and up, until Hermione could no longer see the base of the statue.

"After you," the older witch offered; gesturing with her wandless hand towards the staircase.

Not knowing what else to do other than go along with this madness, Hermione put a hesitant foot forward and climbed the stairs up the tower. McGonagall was only a few paces behind her for each step that she took - she had glanced back to check.

Once they were at the top of the stairs, they progressed into a little alcove that narrowed down into a short corridor. Hermione stopped just before a heavy wooden door at the end of it. Professor McGonagall, however, swept past her and walked up to the door and waited a fraction of a second before it opened and proceeding into her office. The door remained open after she went in and Hermione tentatively crossed the threshold. She couldn't help but flinch at the loud slam that came from behind her.

Stepping into the Office was like stepping back in time. It looked exactly like how Dumbledore had kept it during his time as Headmaster. There were rows of bookcases and shelves full of all sorts of knick-knacks and gadgetry. But it was the gentle bird song that drew her attention to the back of the Office and she was mighty confused by what she saw.

On a stand, looking quite healthy and vibrant, was a male phoenix, who was preening himself and singing along as he did so - golden feathers glinting in the light from his movement. Upon closer examination, Hermione could see it was Fawkes. Since when was he back at Hogwarts? The last she had seen of him was after Dumbledore had died.

Not thinking too much more of it, Hermione's eyes continued to roam over the office, inspecting it as she did so. She hadn't been up here for quite a while and it was eerie to see it had reverted back to how Dumbledore had it. She was sure that Professor McGonagall had updated it since taking over the mantle of Headmistress, but she could be wrong.

She stopped in front of Dumbledore's portrait upon seeing it was empty. No doubt, the bearded wizard was off in another frame stirring up trouble. She was quite thankful that she wouldn't have to interact with him. However, her relief was short lived as he was currently sitting at his desk reading through a large stack of papers that had until now, been obscuring him from view.

Hermione back tracked.

Dumbledore was sitting at his desk. Not in his portrait, but physically behind his desk. Something was very wrong. Said wizard was working on some paperwork and was either ignoring them or just unaware of the two witches that were in the office with him. Professor McGonagall cleared her throat, catching Dumbledore's attention. He looked up and gave them a gentle smile.

"Oh, hello, Minerva," he said in greeting to McGonagall, his eyes twinkled with delight when he spotted Hermione. "And who do you have here, hm?"

McGonagall didn't have a chance to answer, as Hermione cut her off. "You are supposed to be dead - you were buried and fell - you fell…" she whimpered.

McGonagall looked stricken at Hermione's words. "I beg your pardon? Was that a threat?"

"Please, Minerva. I am sure it wasn't," Dumbledore said in his best reassuring voice. "Let our guest have the chance to explain herself." He gestured for Hermione to make a start with the introductions.

The spotlight was suddenly back on her and she was left bewildered with no idea what to say. "I, uh...um am a Gryffindor-" she managed to mumble out before McGonagall intervened.

"Speak up, girl. At the very least give us a name." McGonagall had spent a whole year listening to students mumble and mutter spells under their breath and she was not in the mood to be enduring any more of it.

Hermione gulped and forced herself to take a deep breath before speaking. "My name is Hermione Granger and I am a student here-"

"We know that isn't true," McGonagall groused, before walking over to Dumbledore's desk and taking a standing place beside him.

"It's not a lie," Hermione protested. "Check the Records Book and-"

"I assure you that I know every student currently in attendance at Hogwarts. You, Miss Granger, are not one of them." The Scottish witch's nostrils were flaring by the time she finished speaking.

"But-but my name is in there! I have been a student for the past eight-"

McGonagall pinched the bridge of her nose, quite tired of going around in circles with the young witch. "Miss Granger, we are just trying to get to the bottom of what you are doing here. It would be much easier if you cooperate willingly or I will be forced to contact the authorities and have you taken away for further questioning."

"I am telling the truth. I have been this whole time! Your name is Minerva McGonagall, you're an Animagus, a grey tabby cat and you teach Transfiguration," she tried to insist.

McGonagall shook her head, still not believing anything of what Hermione was saying. "All of that is common knowledge."

"No, but-" Hermione started to object but stopped herself short as she caught the eye of the older wizard who looked ready to finally speak up.

Before doing so, Dumbledore dipped his chin to look at her severely through his half moon spectacles. "I must agree with the Deputy Headmistress on this one. We need to know why you are on school grounds."

Hermione lowered her gaze to the ground and stared at the stone floor blankly, trying to fathom what was going on. She could hear McGonagall still talking to Dumbledore in the background, in a hushed whisper, but she tuned her out. Her ears filled with the buzzing of a thousand Cornish Pixies chattering away. She could feel herself growing dreadfully faint and she knew that she was probably swaying on her feet. Her world was spinning further and further out of control by the second. She could not handle anything more today. Feeling dizzy, she felt her feet beginning to fail her.

The buzzing in her ears softened momentarily, enabling her to catch a snippet of the conversation going on around her.

" _Tell me, Minerva, how did you come across this young lady?"_

" _I don't know, Albus. I just found her wandering around in the corridor…she actually spoke to me first."_

" _This is quite the conundrum then. If we aren't sure-"_ he stopped short and addressed Hermione with concern. "Are you alright, Miss Granger?"

She knew that he was talking to her, but she wasn't capable of responding. She had spoken to more than one supposedly dead person today and her mind was not able to endure speaking with another one for much longer.

"Albus, really- Oh dear, it looks like she is going to faint. Albus!" McGonagall cried, pointing at Hermione.

Already ahead of McGonagall, Dumbledore had his hand raised, already in the process of summoning a chair for Hermione to collapse into. Had she been more with it, Hermione would have been impressed at the use of wandless magic. However, at that moment the only thing that sunk in was that the spell had proved that the man sitting behind the desk was indeed Albus Dumbledore, as any other wizard would've needed to use a wand.

Falling back into the cushy chair, Hermione closed her eyes, trying to regain her composure. But it was difficult to do when all she could focus on was how dry her mouth was, and how her stomach was churning. She scrunched up her eyes tight, and put a concerted effort into swallowing back the bile that had risen up in her throat. Once she was sure the acid had receded, she reopened her lids, mentally counting up to twenty and back a few times, trying to calm herself down.

But the counting wasn't working, it hadn't been enough to clear her mind. She needed to something else to focus on until she settled down. The sound of ticking caught her ear, drawing her gaze up to the clock that hung on the left wall, above a long row of cabinets filled with golden mechanisms. The clock itself was crafted from bronze and had its gears exposed. The clock hands were a plain black and they read that the time was 1 PM, which was perfectly normal, but it was the other display, made of silver, that threw her. It read: 15th June, 1976.

She bolted upright and rubbed her hands over her eyes, just to double check that her eyes weren't playing tricks on her. But the clock remained the same, displaying the same information. Ignoring the dizziness from the sudden movement, she managed to exclaim, "No. No. No! Look, your clock is wrong!"

Dumbledore steepled his fingers and cast an appraising look over Hermione. "If I may ask, why do you think the clock is wrong?"

Hermione's mouth was left hanging. Merlin, she didn't remember Dumbledore being this daft. But all the same she still pointed up to the clock and made her voice as clear as possible. "Because! It's the wrong date."

"Oh, of course." He nodded. "What date should it be, again?" he asked cheerfully, eyes crinkling at their corners as he smiled at her.

Hermione waved her hand at the clock again in exasperation. "June 15th, 1998! What else!?"

"But of course. Silly of me to not realise. Minerva, would you be kind enough fix that up, please?" he requested, never taking his eyes off Hermione.

McGonagall gave a resigned sigh as she begrudgingly flicked her wand at the clock. The date did not change. "Sorry Headmaster, I can't change the time," McGonagall responded in a deadpan tone, her irritation out in the open for all to see. Her glare switched over to Hermione. "The date is correct. It is 15th June, 1976."

"No! That isn't right!" She pulled her own wand out and waved it up at the clock. Desperately casting, "Tempus" and feeling the sinking feeling she had been trying to deny anchor itself even further into her chest. "Why can't I change it?"

"Because today is 15th of June, 1976, my dear and as far as my knowledge goes, we are not able to change that."

Hermione heard the words and was still fighting to believe what was happening right then. How could it be happening though? She hadn't touched a Time Turner… "Oh Merlin. No. This cannot be happening. I-I read…Willowspine...Restricted Section…" she thought out loud to herself as she slowly came to the conclusion of what has transpired. "I said the spell...holding my wand…"

She was going to be sick. Because logically everything was pointing to the fact that she was in 1976. A time where Sirius Black was alive and still a student at Hogwarts. A time when Dumbledore was still alive and… "Voldemort is still alive," she gasped in realisation, her hand crept up on its own to rub her scar.

At the whisper of the Dark Wizard's name, there was a sharp intake of breath. Despite being soft-spoken, McGonagall had still overheard the young witch's words. She cast a glance to Dumbledore, checking if he had also heard the girl. Judging from the pensive look on his face, she would take it that he had.

Hermione looked up at the two Professors, who were both looking at her warily. Feeling quite uneasy at the attention of the two elders, Hermione looked down at her hands, which were nervously fidgeting with the zip of her jacket.

Dumbledore was the first to speak up. "My dear, correct me if I am wrong, but it would seem you have been..." he paused, searching for the right word. "Misplaced, yes," he chuckled to himself, "misplaced in time?"

Hermione flinched at the mention of time and kept her mouth shut. She couldn't admit to anything - she couldn't say anything. She had already encountered too many people for her liking and she did not want to imagine what impact she could possibly be having upon the timeline by being here at all.

"What in the name of Godric are you on about, Albus?"

"It would appear Minerva, Miss Granger here, has travelled back in time," Dumbledore explained matter of factly.

McGonagall raised her hand to cover her mouth. "Are you sure, Albus?"

"Yes, I am quite sure. Why else would Miss Granger believe that the year should be 1998? Or that I should be dead or that you do not recognise her as one your students, despite her insistence of being such one?"

Walking back to where Hermione was sitting, McGonagall placed her hand on the young woman's shoulder. "I'm sorry for treating you like I did, Miss Granger. It's just with how things are at present, we have to be careful. Now, I can imagine that you would you like a cup of tea, yes?"

Hermione nodded and McGonagall set about summoning a cup of tea and hot water. "How do you like it?"

"Milk with one sugar, please," Hermione whispered.

McGonagall turned her back to summon some sugar from behind Dumbledore's desk.

"Are you sure this is necess-" Dumbledore began to ask but, was silenced with a meer look from the black haired Witch. With back stiff and posture defensive, she turned back around and presented the tea to Hermione; cup now on a dainty saucer and spoon self-stirring the liquid.

Raising it to her lips, Hermione took a long hearty sip and leaned back into the chair with a sigh. There wasn't anything that couldn't be solved with a cup of tea. She felt a wave of calm come over her, the tea certainly doing its job to soothe her worries.

Looking at the cup, she swished the liquid around and looked back up. "Is there something in this?"

McGonagall nodded. "Just a wee bit of Calming Draught. It seemed like you could use it."

"Yes, the last thing we would want is to have any more undue stress be caused," Dumbledore added, with a piercing gaze at McGonagall, which she dually ignored.

"Are you enjoying your tea?" McGonagall asked.

Hermione instantly nodded with agreeance and continued to sip. She always appreciated a good cup of tea.

Seeming to have a silent conversation, McGonagall and Dumbledore started at each other for a bit before Dumbledore gave a nearly imperceptible nod of his head.

McGonagall smiled down at Hermione. "Now, why did you come back in time?"

"Oh, it was all an accident. Last day of school and I figured why not give Time and Time, again, a read? I think that when I read out the spell that it sent me back here. Or I have finally gone insane, which isn't unlikely." She laughed aloud and paused. Wait, why was that funny? What had she just said?

She looked down at the seemingly innocent tea in horror and then back to McGonagall. "Veritaserum?" she asked with a shaky voice.

Dumbledore sighed. "Yes, my dear. Sadly such things are required more often than not these days."

"I can't answer any of your questions!" Hermione pleaded, shaking her head. Looking to Dumbledore for help, she begged. "You know what the ramifications are for those who meddle with time."

Ignoring her protests, McGonagall fired off with another round of questions. "What are you doing here? Why have you come here?"

"I already told you, I am not here on purpose. It was an accident."

"Let's cut to the chase, shall we?" Dumbledore proposed. "Are you a spy for Voldemort?"

Hermione spat out an answer to that before she realised what she was saying. "How dare you? I-I would never join the ranks of vile, murderous cowards!" She was barely able to calm herself before speaking again. "I am not a Death Eater and never will be. I despise Voldemort and-"

Dumbledore held up his hand to silence her. "That's quite satisfactory, I believe." He turned to look at McGonagall with an accusatory glare. "Is that enough proof for you, Minerva?"

"No, Albus, it isn't. With that threat on the school last week and You-Know-Who growing more and more powerful, you can't afford to take such reckless risks," she answered with her own shrewd glare. "It is possible for the Veritaserum to be overcome by Occlumency."

Dumbledore was about to object quite sternly to her reasoning but pulled up short and simply pointed to Hermione's exposed forearm. "From the look of Miss Granger's scar, I very much doubt that she is in leagues with Voldemort, Minera."

"However, I am afraid we do need more information" he continued on. " Such as why you are here, how you came to be here and more importantly, when do you plan to return to your time? As I am quite in agreeance. You should not be here."

"Sir, I can't answer those questions, so please don't ask me to. You know I can't!" Hermione begged, trying to fight the potion which was compelling her to speak the truth. It hurt so much, her insides were on fire as she resisted.

Dumbledore looked at her sadly. "I am sorry, my dear, that you are being put through this. But even if it goes against the rules, we do need answers..."

Hermione crumbled, not able to handle the pain any longer. "I am not here on purpose, I can tell you that much. It wasn't intentional, I swear! I was reading a book. Time and Time again, by Casilda Willowspine and I read a spell from the book and I woke up in the library and ran into Sirius Black and I spoke with McGonagall and, and…" Hermione was hyperventilating. She shouldn't have said any of that. She was going to be in a world of trouble - if there was even one left for her to go back to after what she had just said.

Dumbledore nodded as she spoke, quickly absorbing the information, his eyes holding a calculating gleam. "A book by Casilda Willowspine?"

"Yes."

He leaned back in his chair and stroked his beard. "Interesting."

"Albus," McGonagall warned.

He ignored McGonagall and continued to press Hermione for information. "Did this book have runes on the front, perchance?"

Hermione was gobsmacked. "Yes, but, how do you know that?"

"She is actually a friend of mine. She gave me a volume with several personal annotations in it. I was intending to donate the book to the school library but the book seemed to have a mind of its own and took off. It has popped up every now and again on my shelf or in the library." Dumbledore provided the information like it answered everything.

Hermione blinked. Not quite sure what the Professor was getting at. She wasn't the only one either, although McGonagall at least had the gall to call him out on his answer not making any sense.

"Albus, would you like to fill me in on what you are on about?"

"Nothing to worry about, Minerva." Dumbledore waved her off. "Right, Miss Granger, it would appear that you are going to be here for the foreseeable future until that book pops up at any rate."

"Sorry, sir, what do you mean until the book pops back up?" Hermione asked.

"Oh silly me, I thought that you having read the book, you would know that it likes to pop in and out of time, itself?"

"No...because a book shouldn't be able to do that.".

"Not any book at Hogwarts," McGonagall added.

"Ah, but what better place for such a book to find a home, Minerva?"

"Not here, where students, can fall back in time!" McGonagall snapped back.

Dumbledore shook his head in resignation. "It is too late to change the past...future now. Miss Granger is here with us until we are able to get the book to see if we can send her back. Until then, we need to start considering what we are going to do with her."

Hermione couldn't believe he had just said that. "Excuse me?"

"What do you mean, Albus?" McGonagall asked warily.

"She is from the future, Minerva. She has knowledge of things that are yet to happen, and she has no doubt faced down many things already that we could only imagine," Dumbledore went on.

McGonagall's eyes widened to almost the point of been as round as a cat's. "Oh, he will be after her! If he finds out she is here. We have to contact the Ministry, they need to know.

"I am afraid that isn't going to be an option, Minerva."

"Why ever not? Albus, we can't harbour a time traveller here and put the school at risk!"

"Because Minerva, the Ministry is already full of spies! If we tell them we will be near inviting them to be looking for her."

McGonagall swallowed any further protest. "Where can she go?"

Hermione sat still and remained quiet. Normally one wouldn't take a back seat whilst being talked about, however, she wanted to see how this played out.

"She will stay here of course," he merrily answered, as if it was quite obvious.

Now McGonagall was looking faint. "What?"

"Miss Granger said that she is a future student, so why not have her be one next year?" Dumbledore suggested.

She couldn't not interrupt at that last suggestion. "I most certainly will not."

"Why ever not?" Dumbledore asked innocently.

"Because I came back on my graduation day! I already had my seventh year postponed because-" she tried to stop herself from talking, however, the Veritaserum still coursing through her system had her revealing more than she wished. "Of Voldemort, so I will certainly not be repeating it because of him."

"Hm, that does make this quite difficult then. And we will need a defendable reason for you being in the castle…" he trailed off, all the while giving McGonagall quite an intent look.

McGonagall nodded in acquiescence to whatever the bearded man was hinting at. "Well, that can be your decision, Albus."

Dumbledore nodded, catching her drift. "Of course. I know that you must be keen to head home and start your holidays, Minerva, so leave the making of arrangements between Miss Granger and myself."

The Scottish witch sniffed. "Can I trust you to handle this as you ought to?"

He smiled. "Of course, Minerva. Have I ever given you any reason to doubt me so?"

McGonagall raised her eyebrows and looked like she was ready to rattle an example off, but changed her mind at the last second. She nodded and with a swish of her cape, she stalked out of the Office. Leaving Hermione and Dumbledore to sort out what they were going to do.

With McGonagall gone, Dumbledore rose out of his chair and walked to where Hermione was seated and started to pace in front of her. "Since you are not wanting to be a student, it does make this quite difficult, Miss Granger. As there are not many other reasons for someone to be here unless they are a student or teacher."

He turned around mid-pace so that he could address her. "A position has recently become available, starting next year. Regrettably, Professor Raven was not able to continue on with his time at Hogwarts."

"Sorry, but what has that go to do with me?"

"Well, you will be filling that position, Miss Granger! Becoming a member of our staff."

Hermione didn't like how chirpy he sounded. It was too suspicious. "What class exactly are you suggesting I will be taking?"

"Defence Against the Dark Arts. Quite a prestigi-"

"Oh no. I do not want that cursed job!"

"Why would you say it is cursed?"

"Because not one teacher has held down that position for over a year."

Dumbledore frowned severely and walked back over to his desk, taking a seat. "I take it we still have that recruiting issue in the future then."

"It doesn't matter. I am not going to take that job. I would rather be handed over to the Ministry."

"I am sorry, Miss Granger, but you will not have a choice in this matter. You need to stay at Hogwarts and this is the only safe way for us to ensure that you do without drawing undue attention."

Hermione scoffed and crossed her arms. "The Ministry would be a better option than taking that job."

Dumbledore smiled sadly. "Alas, I am afraid not. Hogwarts the only truly safe place for you in the interim, Miss Granger, while we try and work out a safe way to either track down that book or to find someone trustworthy in the Ministry"

"Don't you have any contacts that you trust?"

"At this time, no. No one that I don't think could be compromised if Tom got a hold of them. I am not sure if you are aware, but Voldemort as you know him, is quite the accomplished Legilimens."

Hermione rolled her eyes. "I am well aware."

Dumbledore sighed. "Please Miss Granger, do try and see it from our perspective. You have been found wandering around, mere days after a very public and threatening display was made on the edge of the school towards our staff and students. If Tom or anybody were to get wind of your existence, you would certainly be kidnapped and tortured for information. I can tell that you have already been through a lot of pain and suffering, no doubt the result of the ongoing war against Tom and I would hate to think I caused you anymore from simply handing you over to the Ministry. So, you must be protected, Miss Granger, and the best way to do that is to have you here, where the magics of the castle will hide you. Also, this is the most likely place for the book to come back to so we can send you home." Upon finishing his speech, Dumbledore reached over to a drawer in his desk and pulled out several sheets of paper and began filling them in, leaving Hermione to mull over what he said.

She had to admit, it would be best for her to be here, in Hogwarts rather than out there fending for herself again. Especially with her knowledge of the future. It would also be the better option for her to be closer to the Hogwarts library so she could research how to get home sooner rather than later, but also incase the book did pop back up. But as the damned Defence Against the Dark Arts teacher? Merlin, she had never dreamed of being a teacher, and now faced with the reality of becoming one, she really wasn't keen. It had been such a struggle over the years putting up with classmates who were slower than her and not as quick on the uptake of learning new things. At times she did try and help out Harry and Ron with homework they didn't understand and she did often end up breaking down the theory behind a spell for them...but she often did lose her cool with them if they didn't get the concept on the third time of explaining and being a teacher would call for her to have a lot of patience with that sort of thing...which she really didn't think she would be able to manage. Back in her days in Dumbledore's Army, Harry had been the one to teach everyone how to defend themselves, not her.

Feeling like she had a pretty solid counter argument, Hermione spoke up, breaking the silence. "Other than the fact that the position is cursed or that there are many other applicants willing to take up the position, I would not be a good choice! I don't have any teaching experience! You want me to work with first years and teach them how to defend themselves from Dark Magic when I am barely able to do that myself? You want me to lecture second years on how to not be petrified if they come across a Medusa? What about the third and fourth years? Do I show them what forbidden curses look like? And we all know that the fifth years need to pass their O.W.L's, which I would not be qualified to do. The sixth years will need to be taught duelling, which I am hopeless at! The seventh years though, who need to pass NEWTS? I don't even know if I have passed mine yet for Merlin's sake and you want me to teach them?" She ended up panting by the end of her rant, her frustration at the situation, at herself for reading the book or even touching it at all, unleashed in that slew of words.

"Are you quite finished?" he asked politely, not even looking up from the parchment he was writing on.

Hermione's mouth fell agape and she felt herself beginning to flush. "Am I finished?" she repeated, feeling herself becoming even further worked up. "With all due respect, sir, I am not-"

"Miss Granger, I can appreciate your concerns, however from what you have said, it certainly sounds like you would make an excellent teacher. You already have a grasp on what each year level should be studying and the lack of teaching experience is of no concern and can be easily remedied."

"And just how exac-" she began to ask but stop short as a book floated off the bookcase and hovered in front of her, wriggling and dancing in the air until she took it.

The book was titled: _The 20th Century Guide to Teaching Modern Magic_ and looked brand new. The brown leather was still crisp. The silver indented title still sparkled like it had been freshly crafted. She resisted the urge to smell it - she loved the smell new books.

"You expect a book is going to fix the fact that I don't have a clue about how to teach?"

"No Miss Granger, I believe that a combination of that book, your tenacity and input from our Professors will bring you up to scratch to be ready to teach in time for next semester."

Hermione's look soured as she looked back and forth between Dumbledore and the book. "It would still take years of training and knowledge to be able to teach Defence Against the Dark Arts to the students so that they are ready for their exams. I won't be up to that task by next semester.."

Dumbledore stared her down. "Miss Granger, I have every bit of faith that you will make the most wonderful Defence Against the Dark Arts teacher. Before you ask, how I know that, let me tell you. I see before me a young woman who has been to Hades and back many times and she has never let herself be defeated in those times. The fact that you are still alive and standing with that scar, no less is all the proof I need."

Hermione instinctively covered her arm at the mention of her scar and felt her throat grow tight. "But sir," her voice wavered, tears creeping in. She knew that she wouldn't be able to fight him on this. She was pretty much cornered with no other options. Right now the choice was cooperate or...well she didn't want to imagine. But she had to ask, just once more to know for certain before she was doomed to this role. "Is there truly nothing else I can teach?"

Not taking heed of her upset state, Dumbledore waved his hand and had her chair sliding forward. Hermione gripped the arms of the chair as it moved and held on for life as it came to a halt in front of the man's desk. She was then presented with paperwork.

Blinking and refocusing her eyes, she could see it was actually an employment contract. Skimming the lines she was able to make out that the namespace was blank but the position was not. In the description line there was: Defence Against the Dark Arts Professor to teach Years One to Seven.

She looked up and saw that she was being offered a blue quill, already dipped in ink. She glanced back down to the bottom of the contract, the signatory name was blank. "I can't," she feebly protested, shoulders slumped and pulling away from the desk as far as she could.

Dumbledore heaved a mighty sigh. "Hermione." She looked up at him using her name. "This really is the best place for you. Even if there was a safe place for you at the Ministry, there is still the risk of you impacting the timeline that we need to consider."

She frowned at him. "How will being here prevent any further damage? I have already been seen by yourself, Professor McGonagall and not to mention Sirius Black!"

"You being here will have less of an impact; you will be just another Professor who didn't last the year, due to the curse. As you mentioned earlier, nobody has held the job down for more than a year."

Damnit. He did have a point. She wrinkled her nose as she considered his logic. Being at Hogwarts did mean that she would only be remembered by the students as a teacher and she wouldn't have to worry about anyone looking into her records too far, especially if she could say that she had been hired by Dumbledore directly. It was also the best hiding place with Voldemort still on the loose.

Again, she was at the dead end of having to accept this as her fate. She glanced at the quill that was still in his hand and slowly reached out to take it. Once the feather was in her hand, she brought it down to the bottom of the paper, near ready to sign away, when a thought struck her.

"Won't it be suspicious if there are two Hermione Granger's on the record at Hogwarts?"

Dumbledore chuckled. "Yes, it no doubt would. But that was actually the next thing I needed to discuss with you, Miss Granger. Since you will eventually attend Hogwarts, we will need to make some adjustments as to not draw any undue attention to you whilst you are a Professor here."

"Like what?" She was skeptical of where he was going with this.

"Well for starters, your name. As you said, we can't have two of you on file. It might also be an idea to change your look."

She was trying to not be offended at his suggestion that there with something wrong with her appearance. "What name and changes do you suggest then?" she asked cooly.

"Your name is from that Muggle play, is it not?"

"Yes," she answered hesitantly, a bit surprised that Dumbledore even knew that her name was from a play, a Muggle one at that.

"Well, I was thinking why don't we pick another one from the play? That way it isn't too far off the original? Do you have anything in mind?"

She shook her head.

"Hm." He stroked his chin in thought, before clicking his fingers. "I know. I have always liked this one personally...does Ophelia strike a chord with you, Miss Granger?"

Yes, it did. It had been the second choice of name that her parents had picked out to name her. _Parents that don't even know you exist yet,_ she reminded herself. Swallowing any further thoughts of her parents back, she gave her answer. "Ophelia will be fine."

"Very good. Now for a surname…?"

"Sinclair," she said, without thinking. It had been her Grandmother's maiden name.

"Excellent. Yes, Ophelia Sinclair, that does sound quite lovely, if I do say so myself. Now, if you would be so kind as to pop that down on the dotted line there…" he waved his hand at the paper, which scooted closer to her.

Unable to prolong this any further. She pushed herself to move her hand and place the tip of the quill on the parchment. Muscle memory had her scribbling out her usual signature. However, as she wrote, it transformed itself to say: _Ophelia Sinclair._

 _That's something I am going to have to practise_ , she thought. Signing off with another name. Answering to another name and oh, Merlin. She quickly felt herself becoming overwhelmed at all of the work she was going to have to put into this facade in order for it to be passable in the coming school year.

"Wonderful. Now that is taken care of, we just need to alter…" He flicked his hands casually at her. She felt a slight breeze stirring in her hair which died down just as quickly as it had risen.

"What did you-" She stopped as she saw a curl in the corner of her eye. What had once been honey brown was now a very light blonde. She grabbed the ringlet and pulled. The blonde appeared to go all the way up.

"Yes, that colour does quite suit you, my dear," he said fondly, before taking a completely different tone. "Now back to business, as I have said, you are welcome to ask for help over the summer and you will have the use of school funding to purchase whatever equipment and teaching supplies you need."

"How will I access these funds?"

"Your name will be added to the school's account. For any personal effects, you will need to speak with myself or Minerva."

Hermione was confused. "Why?"

"While the transformation we've made to your appearance might hold up and be passable to the average Hogwarts student it is unlikely that it would be able to pass the scrutiny of the goblins at Gringotts - who are quite adept at seeing through magical alterations. So that is why we can't very well have a salary going into a Gringotts account for you. Also, you aren't supposed to be here in the first place, so we need to avoid a paperwork trail. So we can simply have your expenses taken out of the schools funding. Which will need to be distributed by-"

"You or Professor McGonagall. Yes, got it."

"Very good. Did you have any other questions, Miss Sinclair?"

Hermione sighed. Only a million. "No, sir. I've got it covered."

At her answer, he clapped his hands and stood up. "Right well let me be the first to say this then." He walked around to the front of his desk and stopped in front of Hermione, placing a stronger than it looked hand on her shoulder and gave it a gentle squeeze. "Welcome to Hogwarts, Professor Sinclair."


	4. Magical Melancholy Manual

**I present to you all, the chapter of frustration. I hate it, but it is done! I would like to thank Bahowle for his scowl. mrsblack0905 thank you for being a great pal and writing buddy and beta**

 **drwatsonn thank you for putting up with my questions and pestering and still being an amazing beta 3**

 **Enjoy!**

 **Chapter Four**

 _Magical Melancholy Manual_

Hermione could only nod as Cabby, her assigned house-elf, chatted her ear off on the long walk to her new rooms. "Miss Sinclair will like her room, yes, she will. It is a big room! It has many windows and views of the lake and the forest. It is also near your classroom so don't have to go far. Of course, Cabby would be happy to help, as he is your house-elf!"

She didn't even notice that they had come to a halt at the top of the moving staircase until she nearly walked over the edge and accidentally trod on the poor elf's foot in the process.

"Oh, sorry!" she said out of habit, once she realised what she had done. Although she regretted it as soon as she realised just who she had apologised to.

Cabby's large eyes quickly filled up with tears and his lower lip, if you could call it that, began to wobble. "S-s-sorry? Miss Sinclair saying sorry to Cabby? When Cabby got in your way? Cabby is the bad one, Cabby should be saying sorry!"

Hermione scrambled to find the words to stop him from having a full fledged meltdown.. "Cabby! Cabby, please don't cry," she pleaded. She winced as she saw that even the elf's little pig-like ears were trembling. At the command, the elf seemed to tone down the waterworks a bit.

"Cabby, you are not a bad elf. It was my fault."

"But Miss Sin-"

Hermione closed her eyes and drew upon the last shred of patience she had. "Cabby, please. Don't worry about it." She said it with a forced smile, hoping the elf bought it. "How about you keep telling me about my room, huh?"

Fortunately, Cabby did take her false smile, and he switched moods from teary and distraught to chipper and happy in a heartbeat. It was a bit unnerving if she was being honest, but she didn't really have time to think on it as she got yanked by her hand down the hall.

She remained hunched over as she was pulled along by Cabby, trotting awkwardly behind as she tried to keep up with the surprisingly quick pace he set. Stone walls, portraits and classrooms whizzed past until they finally reached a familiar looking corridor that Hermione knew led to the Defence Against the Dark Arts classroom and what she supposed was now her office.

She didn't have a chance to push the door open as Cabby barged through, his magic slamming it open, and he continued to drag her through the classroom. She was able to fondly take in the rows of desks and the hanging dragon skeleton before she was pulled up the stairs and into the office, which was in quite a state of disarray. It appeared that Professor Raven had packed up and left in quite a hurry.

Cabby dropped her hand and gasped in horror at the state of the Office. "I am so sorry, Miss Sinclair. Office was meant to be cleaned and not so messy, Professor Raven bad for leaving it like this. Oh, Cabby is sorry you are seeing it like this."

"I-"

"But no worry, Miss Sinclair. You wait there and Cabby will have this cleaned up!" Cabby turned into a cleaning tornado, snapping his fingers and everything happened at once. Things disappeared and reappeared; myriads of odd bits and bobs floated around; books flew back into their proper place and furniture realigned itself.

The elf had just summoned quite a large duster when Hermione decided to step in.

"Cabby?"

His ears perked up at the sound of his name, but he continued cleaning. She cleared her throat and tried again, making sure to be quite a bit louder this time. "Cabby."

Finally he stopped and turned around, his large hazel eyes looking almost annoyed at her for interrupting him from cleaning. "Yes, Miss Sinclair?"

"Cabby, you honestly don't need to clean up the Office for me. I won't be using it for quite a few months yet. How about you show me where my rooms are?"

The elf sighed. "If Miss Sinclair wants, Cabby will show her. But then Cabby has to finish cleaning! He won't let his witch have a messy Office, nope, nope, nope."

Hermione rolled her eyes. "That's fine Cabby, you can keep cleaning then, I just really want to have a shower, so can you-"

Cabby's eyes widened at her words. "Why didn't Miss Sinclair say so?" The feather duster was thrown aside, forgotten for the moment, and Cabby rushed over to grab her hand again.

This time she was being tugged in the direction of a rather solid looking brick wall. Hermione couldn't help but scrunch up her face as she braced for impact, but it never came. She was able to go right through the wall without a scratch. She opened her eyes and smiled softly at the sight that greeted her.

A room that was the size of the Gryffindor girls' dormitory lay before her. The space was set out like a studio; the bed was tucked away behind a half wall, the edge of purple bed cover just visible from the angle she was standing at. In front of her was a sitting room area, with an unlit fireplace that would allow someone to Floo, and a two-seater brown leather couch that looked so comfy and so tempting to sit down on, but Hermione just wanted a shower - which was the one private place that she felt safe enough to be able to fully let her guard down.

"Bathroom is through here, Miss Sinclair," Cabby called out, his voice from over in the bedroom section.

Hermione made her way into the bedroom and found a very pleasant surprise. There was a large arch window taking up the entire left side of the room. The views out of it would no doubt be spectacular, but what Hermione truly appreciated were the stained glass stars that were at the top of the window. They magically flickered and winked, shifting forms and spinning, almost like true stars.

So mesmerized was she by the window that she almost didn't hear the elf. "Cabby shall draw you a bath, yes? Okay, Cabby will do that for you!"

Hermione's eyes widened, and she made a mad dash for the bathroom. "No, no, no, Cabby! It's okay, I can manage on my own." She made it into the room and ran for the claw foot tub and grabbed the taps, hands covering them in a feeble attempt to keep the house-elf from turning them on. "Please don't worry about it, Cabby."

The house-elf stood in place and looked up at her sadly, looking like he was about to tear up again. "Doesn't Miss Sinclair like Cabby?"

Oh Merlin, she had forgotten how touchy house-elves could be.

"Cabby," she sighed, "please don't think that. I do like you, I just want some alone time."

Cabby looked perplexed. "Alone time? But Cabby needs to change the sheets and dust the room and bring you some food and-"

"Yes, but I need some time to think and do things for myself."

"But Cabby is meant-"

"I know you are my house-elf and that you want to help, Cabby, but please, don't argue with me on this," Hermione begged, hoping that he would get the hint and leave her alone so that she could just not have to deal with...everything for a while.

She didn't think she had ever seen a more disappointed house-elf, but she wasn't letting the guilt get to her. She had enough emotions swirling around inside that she didn't need to add another one into the mix.

Head hung low, Cabby mumbled out, "As Miss Sinclair wishes," before turning and dragging his feet as he left the room.

Not fully able to quash down her conscience, Hermione found herself shouting out to the elf. "Why don't you clean up the Office for me?" She heard a squeak of delight and she took that to mean that she didn't need to worry about the forlorn elf anymore.

Shaking her head at Cabby's antics, Hermione allowed herself to take in the bathroom in its entirety. It appeared that the window from the bedroom continued through, as the entire left wall was all glass panels. However, where the theme in that room was stars, the bathroom was the moon. A full moon waxed to become a crescent and then jumped to a quarter, not sticking to the true cycle.

Her eyes drew away from the window and took in the rest of the rather plain bathroom. The claw foot tub was big enough for her to submerge herself in and it had a shower head over the top of it and a railing that had a plain white curtain tied up and out of the way. There was a sink next to that with some cabinets underneath. A full length tarnished and aged mirror hung on the other wall. All in all, it was going to be serviceable. The only thing she wasn't happy with was the fact that the wooden door seemed to have a mind of its own and preferred to remain open rather than closed - as she had found out when she tried closing it in preparation for her shower.

Giving up, she left it open and started to pull at her clothes. With her jeans off and flung to a random corner, she made a mental note that she was going to probably have to go shopping for more, as the denim was a bit ratty, but more so that it would be smart if she grabbed some Muggle clothes from the era that she was stuck in.

Reaching for her shirt, she had it pulled up and almost fully over her head when she paused, a glint of gold in the mirror catching her eye. She dismissed it at first, thinking it was just some light catching in the reflection, but another glint of gold flashed. Turning her head to have a better look at what it was she let out a loud shriek as she saw in detail what the gold was.

The gold was on her body. Golden swirls and patterns were inlaid upon her skin, all over her upper torso. Spinning around, she craned her neck over her shoulder and found that there was gold all over her back as well. Taking a shaky step closer to the mirror, Hermione leaned in to get a closer look. The golden swirls weren't random - rather, they were runes.

Squinting and pushing her face as close to the mirror as possible, she was able to see that the runes were Nordic, Egyptian, Pagan and even Sumerian. Merlin, they looked familiar, but her brain was such mush after everything that her normally eidetic memory failed her.

Pulling her shirt off all the way she used her now free hands to trace over one of the runes. They were smooth, and it just felt warm and soft, like her normal skin. They even managed to go over the purplish curse mark on the front of her chest. She continued to stare and trace, wondering how the hell they had gotten there, until it finally clicked.

"Shiiiitt," she wheezed. The runes were from the damned book.

She was shocked as a cold tear trickled down her cheek. She quickly wiped it away with the back of her hand and made quick work with removing the remainder of her clothes and jumping into the tub and turning the taps on. She jumped in shock at the sheer heat that beat down on her, burning against her skin, but she relished it. It made her feel something other than the cyclone of confusion, anger and upset that raged inside her mind. But soon, the heat wasn't enough. It was thawing away some of the numbness of shock that her rational mind had used to keep her going until now.

Soon the sobs rose up into her chest and she felt her eyes prickling with tears again. She fought so hard to hold them back that she shook with the effort, but she wasn't strong enough in the end. The sobs escaped and brought her down into a ball, curled up in the tub, and she just let herself cry.

As she did though, she promised herself that this would be the only breakdown she would allow herself while in 1976. So she let the tears fall for the fear that she wouldn't be able to go home, for the fact that if she made it home, it may be a completely different world, but the tears were mainly for the fact that she was so lost. She had no idea what to do and she was so scared, because even in her darkest times she knew that she would have had Harry or Ron there by her side. But for the first time since she had come to Hogwarts, she was truly alone - and it terrified her.

Feeling more shrivelled than a prune, she rose on wobbly knees to turn the water off. Her grip was weak and her hands slipped from the taps a few times, meaning it took a few attempts to turn them off. Her hair had remained blonde under the torrent of hot water and was stuck all over her face, but she didn't have the energy to remove it.

She gingerly stepped out of the tub and reached down to grab her wand from where it had landed on the floor after she had flung her pants off.

"Accio towel," she mumbled and caught the white cloth that came flying at her with her other hand. Wrapping the towel around herself she mindlessly shuffled out of the bathroom and made her way towards the bed. She threw her wand on a side table and collapsed onto the mattress, not even bothering to pull back the covers.

She couldn't muster the energy to care that her hair was damp to the point of still dripping water and that she was soaking the pillow her head rested on, exhaustion overriding her sensibility. So without any hesitation she closed her eyes and let herself drift off. Her last thought was the hope that when she finally woke up, everything that happened would just turn out to be a dream.

* * *

Upon awakening, Hermione noticed that she was on the window side of the bed and that the sky was streaked with pinks and oranges. Sunset? No, sunrise. She groaned in annoyance at herself. She hadn't meant to sleep for that long. Blinking the sleep from her eyes, she felt more alert and awake, and she moved to sit up, feeling something falling off her to pool around her waist.

A blanket? When and how had that been placed over her? Confused, she looked to the side and saw a tray of food on a bedside table and a cup of tea in a mug that appeared to have been charmed to keep the liquid warm. Right, Cabby.

Moving to sit on the side of the bed, Hermione shivered; the only thing covering her was the towel from earlier.

"Right, clothes," she muttered to herself and made a move to get up, but paused and reached a hand out, grabbing a cold piece of toast and forcing herself to take a bite.

Toast in hand, she went back into the bathroom and found that her clothes weren't there. _Not good, not good, not good!_ Quickly becoming more alert, she went back into the sitting room area and felt her panic subside. Her clothes were clean and folded neatly on a chair, along with a dressing gown, some plain black robes, and even some slippers.

 _Okay, maybe Cabby isn't so bad,_ she admitted to herself, before grabbing the clothes and hastily getting dressed, simultaneously scarfing down the rest of the toast she had nabbed. Having something in her stomach made her feel queasier than ever, but she knew if she didn't eat she wouldn't be able to make it through the day.

Snagging her wand from the table, she flicked it casually up at her hair and tamed it back as much as she could before making her way over to the entrance of the room. Dubiously, she raised a hand out and put it against the wall.

It was solid. "Huh?" She tested it again, this time knocking on it with her knuckles.

Not wanting to waste time on figuring out how to open it she called the one who had led her through it the first time. "Cabby!"

There was a crack behind her. Looking over her shoulder, she confirmed that the house-elf had heard her summons.

Cabby bowed deeply to her before snapping back up and gazing up at her adoringly. "Miss Sinclair, you are awake! Do you need food or a new towel or new sheets? Cabby knows where to get the best ones in the whole castle!"

"Thank you but no thank you, Cabby," she politely declined. "I was actually hoping that you could show me how to get through the wall." She gestured to the blockade in front of her.

"Oh, of course, Miss! You need to walk through it."

Hermione kept her face blank. "I tried to knock on it and it was solid. How-"

"Like this," Cabby said simply before walking at the wall and going right through it. Hermione rubbed her forehead; she had been awake for less than ten minutes and there was already a stress headache forming.

"Cabby, come back please," she called out, although the last word ended in a scream as the elf just stuck his head through the wall.

"Miss Sinclair, come sees the Office! Cabby worked all night and fixed the mess that Mr. Raven left behind, come, come!" He retracted his head and left her there, staring at the wall.

 _It's the same principle as getting onto the platform at King's Cross, just walk at the wall_ , she told herself, before walking at the wall and thankfully going straight through it.

"See Miss Sinclair, Office is nice and clean for you to start teaching! Cabby spent two hours on polishing the desk and getting rid of all the Firewhisky bottles that Professor Raven left behind – Cabby made sure that it doesn't smell for Miss Sinclair." Cabby prattled on, beaming up at her and darting around the Office to show her one feature or another of the space.

She had to admit, it was a darn sight cleaner than when she had first walked in yesterday, but now it was also frighteningly bare. The house-elf's endless stream of words echoes off the high stone walls and made the room feel all the hollower to Hermione. Not wanting to hang around in there for any longer than necessary, she decided to take her chances to ask Cabby on where a good place would be to start trying to track down the blasted book that had sent her back here in the first place.

"Cabby, can I ask you something?"

He nodded dangerously fast. "Of course, Miss, asks Cabby anything, Cabby would love to help!"

She smiled down at him. "I was sent here by a magic book. It was called _Time and Time, Again_. It likes to pop up in strange places around Hogwarts. Have you or any of the other elves seen it lately?"

Cabby frowned. "No, Cabby hasn't seen the books…but he will go and ask the other elves!" he promised, disappearing with a loud crack and leaving behind a lingering smell of smoke.

With the elf on that mission, Hermione found herself back in the location of this whole drama: the Library. However, her journey was halted as she tried to get into the Restricted Section. To her utter frustration, it had been locked up for the summer holidays, and with no sign of Madam Pince around, Hermione was reduced to search around the other sections of the library for the bloody book.

She had been through Magical History twice, Ancient Languages and Runes, Herbology, and was halfway through the Biographies when Madam Pince found her surrounded by a pile of discarded books that she hadn't bothered to put away in her frenzy to locate any potential information on how to get back to her time.

Hermione had nearly ripped a page when the familiar harsh screech sounded from behind her. "Who in the world are you and how dare you make such a mess in my library!"

Hand on her chest and panting in an effort to calm herself down, Hermione took her time before standing up and introducing herself to the Hogwarts librarian. "I am Ophelia Sinclair, the new Defence Against the Dark Arts Professor, lovely to meet you. I was just researching some topics for next semester and appear to have gotten a bit carried away." She chuckled awkwardly and stopped at the shrewd glare that would have normally made her quake in her robes. But she was no longer a student.

Throwing back her shoulders with as much confidence, she asked a question in return. "And you are?"

"Irma Pince, but Madam Pince to you! I am in charge of this library and I will tell you this now, Professor Sinclair." Her words were pure venom. "I do not tolerate any mistreatment of my books or any other part of this library. Knowledge is a gift here at Hogwarts and as a Professor it is your duty to treasure it and protect it, so if I find out that you have-" The librarian stopped, totally taken aback at the smile that had spread across Hermione's face and grown bigger and bigger as she continued to speak.

Seizing the librarian's befuddlement to her advantage, Hermione made sure to swear on her life and her magic to Madam Pince that she would never intentionally harm a book and that she hadn't meant to let the books get so out of hand and that normally she was much more careful with putting them back. After pledging herself as a bibliophile, putting the books back and doing a little bit of alphabetising to sweeten up the harsh witch, Madam Pince gave Hermione access to the Restricted Section by providing her with a key of her very own, that came with several warnings attached with it. Her particular favourite was promise of disembowelment if she somehow lost it and it found its way into the wrong hands. But it was a kind of comfort to Hermione, as some people didn't change over time and Madam Pince was one of them.

Letting herself into the Restricted Section, Hermione bolted to the bookcase she had originally found the book and put it back when she had first landed here. She was only met with severe disappointment when she found that space was empty of the leather bound volume. Hermione grit her teeth and set her resolve: she would turn this library upside down if she had to, just to find that bloody book.

* * *

Every spare minute Hermione had she spent in the library, trying to locate the book, but more often than not she turned up empty handed. She had broken her promise to herself on the second night with more tears spilt in the library over the frustration of not being able to summon the book with an _Accio_ or even been able to find any other books by Willowspine.

After the first three days, she realised that even if she wasn't able to track down the book herself to get home, there actually might be other books amongst the shelves that might have the necessary knowledge to send her home.

Burning the candles at both ends, Hermione threw everything she had into learning about Time magic. In what she thought was a stroke of brilliance she had even sought to track down a few Hogwarts ghosts to ask them what they knew of Time magic and if in their time in the castle had anything like this ever happened before. Unfortunately, they were little to no help with her research, most telling her to let the past be and worry about her future - little did they know.

On what she thought to be her seventh night in the past, Hermione caught her eyelids beginning to droop. Fighting the urge to close them for a few seconds and rest her eyes, Hermione shook her head and straightened herself up. Figuring it couldn't hurt to give her legs a stretch either, she went to stand up, but stopped as the clanking of china filled her ears.

She frowned; where had that come from? Looking to the side, she found the source of the noise. A little ways down on the desk there was a mountain of plates and teacups that had been slowly growing over the last few days, as Cabby had fuelled her research with biscuits and caffeine. Thinking of the elf, she felt a wave of guilt course through her from their earlier conversation.

Cabby had popped in unannounced and given her a fright that had resulted in her spilling her tea all over her pacharment of notes she had just finished. In irritation and probably due to the lack of sleep, Hermione had lost her temper and shouted at the elf to not just pop in so loudly and so close to her.

As a consequence, the poor elf had burst into tears and wept at her feet, clinging to her shins and apologising over and over for ruining her notes and had offered to iron his hands as punishment. The shame had quickly blossomed across her face as she realised what she had done. She had then gotten out of her chair and peeled him off her leg so he could just lie on the floor. She had crouched down beside him to place a hand on his head, gently patting him and apologising to him for her outburst, explaining that she was just trying to find a way to locate the book.

Cabby had slowly sat up, and with tears rolling down his grey face and snot dripping from his nose, he had promised her that he was still looking. "Cabby has asked all of the elves that he knows, Miss Sinclair, and Cabby has asked the portraits and even asked some ghosts but Cabby can't find book! Cabby has failed Miss Sinclair."

"No, you haven't, Cabby," she said, still awkwardly patting his knobby head. "I have asked you to do too much." Now the elf look affronted. "Not like that, Cabby. The book is magical so even a house-elf may not be able to track it down."

Mollified from her words, the elf had risen up and started to gather the plethora of dishes. "Cabby is bad for leaving the dishes this long. He is a very bad elf and-"

"Don't you even think of punishing yourself," Hermione said from the floor, not quite having mustered the energy to get up yet. "You need to look after yourself Cabby, because if you don't then who will look after me?"

However, his reply to her was more profound than she had been expecting.

"Cabby will look after Cabby, so that Cabby can look after Miss Sinclair because Miss Sinclair isn't ready to look after herself yet," he had said, before popping away with the promise of returning with more tea, leaving Hermione to sit there and mull over what had just happened.

A house-elf had just given her a wake up call. While she couldn't deny the fact she was very offended at the elf's suggestion she couldn't look after herself (she was a grown witch, after all), he spoke naught but the truth. She had been letting herself become obsessed with getting home and it was eating away at her soul. She couldn't remember the last time she had brushed her hair or even left the Library, being the sole occupant since Madam Pince had uncharacteristically gone away for the holidays.

She knew it wasn't sustainable to keep going on like this, but she didn't have any other option. It would be mental if she actually ended up sticking around long enough to teach. No, she needed to find a way to get home before the end of summer. But, she couldn't let herself go back damaged, and unable to to handle any changes that her very presence in the past may be causing.

Hermione sighed. She was letting all of her progress she had made around her mental health go to waste. She couldn't afford to be taking a step backwards now.

So that is how Hermione resigned herself to researching another project: Mental Health.

* * *

"What a load of codswallop!" she exclaimed, slamming the book closed. As Hermione had discovered, there was no such thing as a Mind Healer in the 1970's and she was pretty much left to her own devices for researching counselling and stress coping techniques, to help her try and deal with being sent back in time.

She had managed to find a few books in a Flourish and Blotts catalogue that had been floating around the main library desk. She had taken the liberty of ordering a few via Postal Order. The one that had looked the most promising: _Magical Melancholy Manual_ \- had turned out to be a waste of galleons and the paper that it was printed on. Hermione had liked to think that wizarding culture was fairly progressive with is views on gender equality, but upon receiving the book and discovering that it mentioned hysteria as an actual condition witches could get that would cause them to go mental...Merlin, Hermione had never been so tempted to burn a book in her life.

The other books she had found, however, weren't too bad. They all suggested that it would take time for her mind to heal, and that while Self-Cheering Charms were a great quick fix, their use over the long term would not help her in this case. Nor would any of the potions on the market - all of them aimed for lifting the spirits in the short term. One particularly interesting suggestion Hermione had come across was that she should start a project: something that wasn't tied to the cause of her stress - so that ruled out time travel; and something that wouldn't make her stress about being stressed - so again that ruled out researching her current topic: mental health. With her options getting more and more limited, Hermione was left to begrudgingly accept that she was going to have to start looking into teaching, and she loathed it.

It meant giving into Dumbledore - letting him have his way. But what were her other options? To keep looking into Time magic and be in an endless loop of madness until she wept with frustration at not finding answers? Or becoming frustrated that magical medicine of the time wasn't up to the standard she was used to twenty years in the future and feeling herself go mental trying to find a book that wouldn't actually be published for another fifteen years or more?

With a bit of a nudge from Cabby reminding her that the semester would be starting sooner rather than later and that she would need to start planning, she had to let go of her pride and stop spending all of her time looking into Time magic or healing magic.

Which is what led Hermione back to her rooms to retrieve the book Dumbledore had given her on teaching and the premade lesson plans. If she was going to be a teacher, she was going to be the best damned DADA professor Hogwarts had ever had.

* * *

Hermione found that studying how to teach actually soothed her slightly and she began to devote large amounts of time consuming syllabus after syllabus of old teachers. She found it truly fascinating that there were so many variances of teaching styles that each DADA teacher had presented over the history of Hogwarts.

Surprisingly the book that Dumbledore had presented to her turned out to be quite helpful, but it also showed her that the pre-planned lesson plan sets that she had been given were a near textbook replica of the book. Which didn't sit well with her - the course feeling too reminiscent of Umbridge's blanket teaching style.

It also came with the realisation that she would be teaching Harry's parents, the Marauders, Snape...young teenagers now who had no idea what was coming their way - and from the looks of what they were going to learn, they would be so very unprepared for it. That if she stuck with what Dumbledore had planned she would be sending them out to essentially be sacrifices to history, ready to be slaughtered at the right moment. The thought had made her weep. But it had also broken her - provided her with the determination to make a change.

And so she began to plan. Learning as many defensive spells as she could, racking her brain for encounters that she knew they would have and how to translate that into possible school lessons without actually throwing an Unforgivable at them. Which is how she had come up with the brilliant idea of seeking out dark artifacts that could be contained but they could also treat as a viable threat to try and defeat. As she knew from her days of Horcrux hunting, though, tracking down such dark potent magical things was quite the task, and she would need funds to do so.

Which is how she found herself in Dumbledore's office with her new lesson plans laid out before him, pending approval to go ahead with teaching them, but also to secure the objects she would need to do that.

He had nodded as he read over the first couple of pages, but his brow became furrowed as he continued to read on. "While I applaud your enthusiasm in redesigning the curriculum, Miss Sinclair, I have to say that this syllabus that you have put together is quite...specific. I do hope that you-"

"I know what I am doing. I just need the funds-"

"Yes, but 1000 galleons to make purchases from Borgin and Bourkes? Really, is it necessary, my dear?"

Hermione took a deep breath and bit her tongue before she deemed it safe to respond. "Sir, I mean no disrespect, but what you gave me would not prepare them for the real world unless it was made of cotton and fluff. War is here and you gave me the job to teach. Let me do that. Because how can they defend themselves if they don't know what they are facing?" Her tone made it very clear that she was not going to back down on this.

Seeming to sense that, Dumbledore nodded and pulled out a bag of galleons from a desk draw. "Very well, but please, do try and make sure that you are careful. I mean, if you prefer I can send-"

"No. I will be the one to go."

"But-"

"Headmaster, I can appreciate your concern but I know how to be discreet and defend myself."

"I can't very well-"

"I will be going with or without your permission." Hermione was quite pleased to see the old man looking so frazzled.

"Very well," he said, seizing the last word, before sliding the bag of galleons across the desk to her. "Be careful."

She grabbed it in a smooth swipe and nodded her head in thanks. As she walked away she saw that he was shaking his head, looking quite upset that he had not gotten his way.


	5. How To Train Your Kneazle

**Woo, new chapter now. Now, before I go too much further, this chapter is proudly brought to you by my imagination but I don't own any of the HP content.**

 **Special thanks to Bahowle - who let me read this outloud to him and for being the best alpha ever. Same to mrsblack0905 for letting me bounce ideas off you!**

 **More thanks to the Beta Chop Shop team who made this chapter readable! drwatsonn who came up with an action plan for me to improve my writing and still edited the hell out of this thing for me. Crochetaway, is also one badass beta. I have to tell you. She doesn't flinch when she receives my work and just ploughs on to make corrections! Islndgurl777 - thank you for finding time to read through and triple check me! Your commentary also made me feel a lot more confident about the chapter.**

 **With all of that said, enjoy.**

 **Chapter Five**

 _How to Train Your Kneazle_

 _Waaahhhhh, wahhhhhhhh, wahhhhh._ For the last two hours that was all Sirius had heard - the consistent wails of his newest next door neighbour: an Augurey and her hatchlings.

 _Waaaaaaahhhhh._ He groaned in response as he heard the menace let out another wail that was its charming way of letting the world know that rain was coming. Of course, one of the many joys that came with living in England was that it rained all the fucking time, which in turn meant... _Wahhhh, wahhhhh._

After that, there were a few minutes of blissful silence that allowed for Sirius to drift back to sleep. But the peace didn't last.

 _Wahhhhhh,_ it sounded off again, prompting him to bury his head further into the pillow, desperate to drown out the pitiful cries of the bird that sounded like it needed to be put out of its misery - because that was all it had been causing him for the last few weeks, ever since the bastard had built its nest in a tree next to his tent.

At the time, he had thought it was a great idea to camp out in the Potters' backyard - he would be able to have his own space and not have to share a room with James and listen to the git snore like a giant with a blocked nose until they went back to school. He had also been able to sneak a couple of birds into _his_ nest. However, he had been thwarted, initially.

Euphemia Potter, or Mumma Mia as he liked to call her, had been expecting Sirius to try bringing a few witches home, so she had gone ahead and constructed intricate wards around Potter Manor to stop any strange witch from coming up the front path. As she said to Sirius, ' _I_ _do not want random girls - witches or Muggles - to be waltzing through my house or front garden at all hours of the night, Sirius Black. So don't make the mistake of thinking that just because you are living outdoors now that I don't expect you to act like a civilised wizard_.'

In typical Sirius fashion, he had taken her words as a personal challenge. Mumma Mia had been a Ravenclaw so it was expected that she would appreciate him figuring out a loophole in her rules. Which he had done, very well, or so he liked to think. He had discovered with a bit of testing and prodding of the wards, he was able to get away with sneaking birds in through the woods at the back of the Potters' estate, as the wards were at their weakest there. It also meant that Mumma Mia didn't _see_ him bringing any of the girls home.

In fact, Sirius had entertained a local lass last night, and after a lovely night together, he had sent her on her way in the wee hours of the morning. Sated and drained from entertaining his guest, Sirius had swiftly fallen asleep. He had been happily asleep until the wretched bird had started to sing the song of its people to him.

Sirius was _this_ close to hexing the damn things out of their nest, turning them into a pile of feathers and presenting the carcasses to the house elves to make a roast out of them. Unfortunately, he knew doing that would be more trouble than it was worth. As he had found out the other night at dinner, the blasted birds were protected. Apparently, the Augurey was considered to be an endangered species in this region, and with Papa Monty (formally known as Fleamont Potter) being an amateur Magizoologist, he would never let Sirius hear the end of it if he hexed the stupid overgrown pigeons.

Not able to stand lying in bed for another mournful minute waiting for the rain to drown out the squawks of the beaked menaces, Sirius started to muster the energy for getting up and out of bed for the day. It took a few minutes of coaxing and promises of warm tea to himself before he actually rolled out of bed and flopped onto a dusty sheep fleece he had put down to cover up the cold tile floor.

Then came the hard part: finding clothes. Blindly reaching out, he patted around until his fingers brushed against the familiar silky material of boxers, and he pulled them on with a bit of wriggling. Reaching again for a shirt, any shirt, he turned up empty-handed. Groaning, he flopped his head back and sadly gazed up at the dresser that held most of his clothes. He was actually going to have to stand up to get to it.

Sirius was unable to stop a moan from escaping as he stood up. His knees creaked and joints popped as he did.

Staggering to the dresser, he yanked a drawer open and shoved his hand in, rummaging around a bit. He ended up picking a black AC/DC shirt that had seen better days. Pulling it over his head, he was stopped as the collar tangled with his hair and presented just another problem for this morning's parade of them. He grabbed a hair band from the plethora he usually kept around his wrist and pulled his hair back into a haphazard bun.

Sirius finally managed to stumble out of his bedroom and into the living area of the tent. In his sleepy state though, he was not very coordinated, so he managed to stub his toe on the edge of the coffee table as he shuffled by, and his knee also collided with arm of the couch.

The early morning haziness instantly faded away as pain shot through his foot. His natural reaction had been to grab a hold of it and start hopping around to try and find a surface to prop it up against. In the process of doing so he managed to knock over a floor lamp and once again nearly trip over a footrest.

He finally came to a stop as he entered the kitchen and was able to catch his balance by bumping into the kitchenette counter. He jiggled his toe a bit and hissed at the sharp throb. He looked down to see blood gushing from his big toe. He had damn well ripped the toenail off.

 _No way this morning can get any fucking worse_. However, the soft hoot that came from behind him just had to prove him wrong, didn't it?

Twisting around, Sirius saw that perched on the dining room table there was an owl. But not just any owl, it was the Lupin family owl: Gealaich. Merlin, the world was really trying to make him hate birds, he mused as he limped over to rip the letter off its leg. He ignored the offended hoot and cold yellow glare as the owl stared at him for a few moments before taking flight.

The feathered fucker made sure to take a well-aimed shit on his shoulder before it left out the tent flap. Again, fucking birds were bringing him nothing but misfortune that morning. He grumbled to himself even more about roast chicken for dinner as he made for the dresser to grab another shirt.

Clean jumper on, Sirius ripped the wax seal off the letter and began to read.

 _Sirius,_

 _Send back the Restricted Section key._

 _Remus_

He scowled at the lines of text, more so at the fact that there were so few of them. It would appear that Remus, the bloody git, was still pissed with him about the whole rip in the Map thing. Well, more so that he was spending his whole summer trying to repair it and upon closer inspection he had discovered the rip was a lot worse then he had initially thought. So now, no matter how many times Sirius tried to apologise via letter, Floo, or even in person, the stubborn werewolf wouldn't hear it.

He suspected that Remus was most likely holding out on purpose. Just waiting for him to cave in and resort to bribing him with chocolate. That was honestly how Remus kept up his stock of the stuff: by being mad at either him or James and not budging or forgiving until they caved and offered chocolaty recompense.

Figuring that he may as well give into the demands of the werewolf to try and gain some favour, Sirius set about heading up to the Manor for breakfast and to ask about borrowing the Potters' family owl.

Not bothering to put on shoes, Sirius strolled up the garden path and let himself in through the french doors that led into the dining room. He could see that so far Mumma Mia and Papa Monty were sitting on one side of the table and James was on the other looking rather giddy, despite how stupidly early it was. All three had plates of bacon and eggs in front of them.

"Morning, Pads," James chirped as he saw Sirius coming in.

Sirius stopped to take in James who was beaming at him with such happiness that it left him unnerved. Something suspicious had to be going on. A prank or other shenanigans could be the only reason that James was ever this happy at seven o'clock in the morning.

Cautiously looking over the room, nothing appeared out of place. So he deigned to reciprocate the greeting to see where it would lead.

" _Morning_ ," he responded but was barely able to hear himself, his voice a hoarse rasp from last night's activities.

He cleared his throat and tried again. "Morning, Prongs."

James was still buzzing with energy as he pulled out a chair and took a seat next to him. He nodded at Mumma Mia and Papa Monty in greeting. Both were engrossed with the _Daily Prophet_ and their own breakfasts. He turned to appraise his friend once more, as he felt the happiness damn near pulsing off him.

Noticing his look, James flashed him a blinding smile. "It is a beautiful and wonderful morning, Pads! The sun is shining and the world is perfect!"

"Ahuh, sure, whatever you say, mate."

"No seriously, Pads! Have you ever noticed how wonderful mornings are?"

Sirius wasn't going to answer that, because someone must have given James normal coffee instead of decaf for him to be this hyper. He instead shook his head and picked up a knife and fork, ready to eat.

He didn't blink as a plate ladened with food popped up in front of him. He wasn't a fan of his own family's house elf or having any creature be enslaved to him really, but he did have to admit that elves came with a few perks, such as well-cooked breakfast.

He tucked in with a ferocious appetite. He had been up all night after all and that took a lot of energy, which he was always happy to point out to whoever made a remark about his table manners or lack thereof.

A familiar chuckle had him looking up from his plate. "You're going to choke if you keep shoving that sausage in like that."

Sirius coughed, as the sausage he had been chewing caught in his throat. Choking on the meat, he managed to dislodge it after quite a bit of hacking and coughing.

He glared at James, his eyes watering. "Screw you, Potter."

"Oo, not very friendly this morning, are you?" James teased.

Not feeling like it would be appropriate to respond with Mumma Mia at the table, Sirius ignored James and went back into his food. Not liking that he was being ignored, James pouted at Sirius – who tried to hide his smirk by taking another bite of his bacon.

A loud sigh came from the other side of the table. Sirius glanced up to see Papa Monty was scowling at the two boys. Brown met grey and Sirius gave the elder wizard a full smile, white teeth and bits of food, all on display. He knew he wasn't really in any shit when the old man couldn't suppress cracking his own smile.

Papa Monty then directed his attention to James. "Alright, son. Sirius is here, so out with it. What is your big news?"

"Dad, I can't just-"

"Oh, for Merlin's sake, just share your news, would you?" Mumma Mia snapped at her son. "He has been waiting until you got here and been an insufferable brat the whole time." She looked at Sirius and then back to James. "Get on with it!"

"Alright, Mum! Merlin, don't give yourself any more grey hairs," James jested and quickly moved on as he saw the warning glare that Mumma Mia shot his way. "Okay, you all ready?"

He could have sworn that he saw Papa Monty's eye twitch before James finally burst out, "I am Head Boy!"

Sirius inhaled the tea he had been sipping and coughed out, "You're what?"

"I'm Head Boy this year," he repeated, his smile splitting his face. "Look!" He pulled out a shiny pin and waved it around the table for them all to see.

Sirius stared wide-eyed at the pin that James was holding. Seriously, what the fuck? How the hell had James, the tosser, managed to land the position of Head Boy?

"Well done, son!" Papa Monty exclaimed at the same time Mumma Mia crooned,"Oh darling, I'm so proud of you!"

Sirius shook his head at the both of them. They were bonkers to think this was a good thing, so it was left to him to ask the most important question. "Congrats and all mate. But has Dumbledore lost his marbles?"

An awkward silence came over the table. James blinked at him. "No offence mate, but you aren't exactly the best-"

"Bugger off! You are just jealous," James shouted. "Dumbledore obviously recognises quality leadership and-"

"Pft, you couldn't lead a niffler to gold," Sirius interrupted, gearing up for a debate.

Trying to divert conversation from impending disaster, Mumma Mia chimed in. "Who is Head Girl, James darling?"

"That's the best part actually Mum, it's-" James didn't get to finish his sentence, as he was interrupted by an owl, swooping in and out.

The owl dropped a red envelope off in front of James and flew out just as quickly as it had flown in. Leaning in for a closer look, Sirius could see that the ink used to address the envelope was also in red.

 _Oh, this is gonna be good_ , he thought, reclining back into his chair, calmly sipping his tea as he waited for the show to begin.

Because even before the Howler had a chance to unleash its fury, Sirius knew who it was from and whose voice he would soon be hearing shout at his best friend. He recognised the owl as he saw it around quite often, delivering returned parcels, presents, and letters to James.

James just stared in horror at the Howler, seemingly frozen in place out of fear of what was about to happen. It began to smoke and shudder.

"Darling," Mumma Mia sighed, "the longer you leave it the worse it will be."

James shook his head, refusing to touch it. Sirius reached over to open it up for his scaredy-cat mate, but James blocked his hand and let the Howler shake, until, finally sick of waiting to be opened, it exploded.

" _I don't know what Dumbledore was thinking!_ " a feminine voice shrieked. " _I am going to start a petition to get you removed. So you can take your offer for a private tour of the dungeons and go shove it up your arse, James Potter, along with your congratulations!"_ Once it had finished ranting, the envelope tore itself up.

Sirius cackled like a maniac. "Well, that answers the question of who Head Girl is!" He banged the table as he laughed. "You and Evans? Merlin, this year is gonna be great."

Papa Monty looked puzzled. "Evans? As in Lily Evans, that girl that doesn't like you, James?"

Sirius nodded, close to pissing himself with laughter now. "Yes," he gasped. "The one that hates his guts but he is madly in love with."

Mumma Mia shook her head at her son, smiling in amusement but also looking at him in pity. "Oh, James, you are as bad as your father, aren't you?"

Wiping tears away from his face, Sirius finally to pull himself together from his giggling fit. "You alright there, Prongs?"

James looked up from the pile of paper and beamed at Sirius. "She said congratulations back and she even responded, Pads? Did you hear? And she didn't threaten to hex me or curse me."

"Yeah, that is unusual," Sirius mused. "But I wouldn't think too much on it, yeah?" He could always trust James to misinterpret any gesture that Evans made towards him.

"Okay, I have to keep the ball rolling. While she's in a good mood," James mumbled to himself, scooping up some scrambled eggs onto his fork. "I think I should send her some flowers."

"That's not a good idea," Sirius said.

"Why not?" James asked, mouth full of food.

"Remember the time that you got her those everlasting lilies?"

James paled at the memory. "Good thinking, Pads. What about a gift? Yeah, a gift! I can pop down to Diagon Alley and-"

"Most certainly not!" Mumma Mia snapped. "You will not be going into Diagon Alley on your own at all, not with how things are at the moment. Especially since Dumbledore's warning last night…"

"But, Mum!" James cried out in protest.

"No, and that is final, James Potter." Sirius shrank back into his chair at her tone - that one meant trouble if she was pushed any further. Fortunately, Papa Monty came to the rescue of his idiot son.

Papa Monty placed a hand over Mumma Mia's. "We haven't had the house to ourselves in so long…if the boys went out for the day then we could spend some time together..."

James gagged. "Ew, Dad."

Mumma Mia blushed but still held firm on her decision. "It's still too dangerous, I'm sorry, darling, but-"

"We need to get stuff for school anyway," Sirius rushed out. "We can go together. Please, Mum?" he asked, making sure to turn up the puppy dog eyes to full notch. He also knew it was a low blow to call her Mum, but it was a guarantee to get what they wanted.

As predicted, Mumma Mia melted at Sirius' plea and looked at Papa Monty, who gave her a side smirk. "My boys, I just want you to be safe. You can go," she said, finally relenting.

"Yes, high five!" James held his hand up to Sirius.

"But-" she continued, and James lowered his hand and glanced back to his mother. "You need to take someone responsible. So you can go, as long as Remus is there with you two."

"We can look after ourselves, Mum," James whinged. "Sirius and I will be fine on our own!"

Mumma Mia gave her son a look. "You two not being trusted on your own _is_ the problem, darling."

James opened his mouth to argue again, but Sirius knocked him in the ribs with his elbow to shut him up. "It's alright, Prongs. We can ask Moony to come along. I need to give him back that blasted key anyway."

"Finnnnnnne. But dibs on not going with Remus to the bookstore."

"If I have to get dragged into the bookstore, you are damn well coming with me."

"Nah, nah, nah. Not happening. No!" James pointed his fork at Sirius. "No!" Sirius pulled out the sad puppy look again. "Hah, that won't work on me…"

Sirius held the face - his eyes were watering from the lack of blinking but he couldn't break eye contact now. It was a matter of principle.

James risked a look and just like his mother, couldn't resist a sad Sirius. "You suck! Ugh, fine. But you have to help me find a present for Lily."

Sirius' sad face instantly transformed into a huge smile. "Easy. Probably best I do help you with this or you might end up with tentacles for arms again."

James shuddered. "Yeah, Evans did get creative with that one."

"You shouldn't have tried to get the squid to give her your gift then."

"I was going for original. Now, are you going to owl Moony or do I have to?"

"That pleasure is all yours, James," Sirius said, standing up from the table and escaping the room.

* * *

Sirius was leaning up against a pillar in front of Gringotts, scanning the crowd for Remus. "You see him yet, Prongs?"

"Nah, not yet, Pads. No, wait. There he is." James pointed over to a head of sandy blond hair. "Oi, over here, Moony!" James called out, waving like a lunatic at their mate.

Remus nodded in acknowledgement to the shout and started to make his way over to the pair. "Hey James," Remus said once he was in front of them. He didn't greet Sirius.

 _So that's how it's gonna be then_. Sirius sighed. He was not in the mood to be dealing with any passive-aggressive bullshit today so he decided to cut straight to the chase.

"Here's your bloody key." He shoved the golden thing at Remus with a scowl.

Remus took it and quickly tucked it away into his pocket, looking at Sirius with disdain. "Thanks."

"Oh Merlin, would you two get over yourselves, already?" James ran his hands through is hair in exasperation.

Remus shook his head. "It's not that simple, James."

Sirius snorted. "How much chocolate is it going to take?"

Remus didn't say anything, but his eyes did travel over to Flourish and Blotts. Sirius got the clue and grinned. "How many books will it take, Mr. Moony?"

Shrugging his shoulders, the werewolf spun around and made his way towards the bookstore, not waiting to see if Sirius or James were following.

"Nope, not happening. That is all yours, Pads," James said, shaking his head.

"Well then, guess you don't need a hand with buying that present for Lily."

James gulped. "I'll take my chances."

"You promised," Sirius whinged, resisting the urge to stamp his foot.

"Fine, I promised and when you need me you can come and find me in Broomstix," James said assuredly before making to head off in the direction of that store.

Finally fed up with mucking around, Sirius made a move. "Oh no, you are coming, mate," he insisted, putting his hands on James' back and starting to push him forward. "Your textbooks aren't going to buy themselves and if I have to suffer, so do you."

James dug his heels in. "You can buy them for me!"

"You wish, Potter."

* * *

Once inside the bookshop, Sirius watched Moony buzzing around happily, looking at a random book here and there, a steady pile of them growing in his arms. Sirius was going to bust at this rate.

A flash of blonde in the corner of his eye caught his attention. Turning his head he saw long blonde locks and a witch who was bent over looking at a low shelf of books. He tilted his head as he took in the witch's backside, judging and appraising it. He nodded to himself as he deemed it worth a perv.

He kept staring as she straightened and turned around to face him. It took him a while to place her face but when he did, his jaw dropped.

It was that bird. The bloody girl that had interrupted his shagging of Marlene in the library. He narrowed his eyes as he studied her. He could have sworn that she had been a brunette last time he had seen her, but apparently not, as her hair was as blonde as a Malfoy's, although she looked as strung out as she had the last time they had run into each other.

He unashamedly stared at her, taking her in and trying to unravel the mystery of who she was. Why had she been in the library that day? Why had she looked at him so funnily? What was she doing in Flourish and Blotts? So many questions.

When she started to head his way though, he panicked. _Shit, shit, shit._

Reaching out, Sirius plucked a random book off the shelf behind him and shoved his face into it, pretending to read. As she walked by, Sirius caught a glimpse of one of the books she had purchased. _Crafting Dark Spells._ His eyebrows shot up. That was a bloody dark book. He knew that because there was a copy in the Black family library and knew it was banned at Hogwarts.

It did put one question in front of all the others about her though: Why was she buying it? She was an enigma that Sirius needed to unravel. His curiosity demanded it.

He followed her movement to the front of the store where she waited in line to purchase her books. He was so intent on observing her he didn't even realise that someone was talking to him.

"What do you reckon, Sirius? Is my name a plural? Should I just be a Jame and if there-" James stopped rambling. "Pads, why in the name of Merlin's saggy balls are you reading about Kneazle training?"

Concentration broken, Sirius quickly glanced down at the book he had grabbed. _How to Train Your Kneazle._ Shit, how was he going to talk his way out of this one?

"Uh, I heard that Lily was looking into getting one and thought that you might want a copy to give to Lily, 'cause she likes books and all."

James brightened up. "Ah, yes! You are a genius mate. Lily would never turn down a book!"

"Yeah, certified genius I am," Sirius agreed half-heartedly, as he had gone back to looking out for the blonde witch heading out the door.

James reached out to pinch him. "Oi, Pads. You alright there?" His gaze followed to where Sirius was looking and he groaned. "Mate, give it a rest. You don't have to bone every blonde in England."

Sirius hit James on the head with the book. "I don't want to fuck her! That was the bloody bird that interrupted Marlene and me in the library. She also bought a really dark book ..."

"So?"

"So, you git, someone only has that kind of book if they are intending to get into the Dark Arts," he groused, leaning around to look past James and see where she had gotten to now. He could see that she was outside the bookstore and was turning into Knockturn Alley.

"Again, so?"

Sirius groaned. "Don't you bloody remember the talk that Dumbledore gave us at the end of school last year? That we should keep an eye out for that sort of stuff?"

"Uh, not really. I was more interested in the pudding."

Not wanting to waste any time, Sirius grabbed James' sleeve and pulled him along as he ran out of the bookstore in pursuit of the witch, ignoring James' protests as he did so.

"Where are we going?"

"Knockturn Alley."

Neither of them saw the enraged Remus watch them leave the bookstore and bolt into the darkness of the alleyway.


	6. Sensual Sorcery

**Thank you for all of the follows, faves and reviews from last chapter. They are very much appreciated 3**

 **Beta Chop Shop Team who made this chapter readable are: Crochetaway - an amazing beta who is teaching me so much along the way. Be it about random things or writing related - I love it all :) Your commentary made me smile so much as well!**

 **Islndgurl777 - This wonderful lady took time out of a hectic moving weekend to do edits for me. Thank you for your input on the flow and being awesome in general!**

 **And thanks also** goes **to Bahowle - best alpha reader out there. He listened to me complain,** cry **and stress out about this chapter so much - but because of** that **it is finally here, complete!** Also **, he gets the credit for the chapter title!**

 **Chapter Six**

 _Sensual Sorcery: A Guide to Seduction, Stimulation, and Satisfaction_

Knockturn Alley was as dingy, dark, and filthy as it had been in the 90's. The only difference Hermione noticed was that more shops were open in the 70's and the business of illegal merchandise and trading of restricted goods was booming.

 _Probably because the Ministry has yet to start cracking down on it and Voldemort is still rising in power_ , she reminded herself grimly.

She had just passed by Noggin Bonce when something glinting in the corner of her eye caught her attention. At first glance, it looked like any other shop display, but she doubled back, just to make sure that she wasn't having some sort of hallucination.

Peering through the dirty shop window, Hermione recoiled when she realised what was on display behind the glass. Several shrunken heads in various stages of decay and preservation were floating in a metallic liquid. One of the heads swivelled around to look at her.

"What are you lookin' at, eh?" it shouted.

"Want to join us in here, huh?" another one called out.

"Yeah, living is for suckers!" a third one cried.

Soon, all of them were cackling and squawking at her. The sudden noise drew the attention of the shop owner, a shrunken-in wizard himself, who came barreling out the door, waving his walking stick around in the air as he gave the heads a scolding.

"Oi, stop talking to the people!" He cast an apologetic look her way, before turning back to the heads. "Don't make me sew yer bloody mouths shut, you hear me? I'll do it."

"You shrunk our ears, so we can't hear you, and you're too ugly to look at," one of the heads yelled back in a sing-song voice.

The shop owner went bright red.

"Maybe we can borrow hers? Yeah, she has some real pretty ears!" The heads continued to giggle and snicker.

Making a noise of disgust at the heads, she walked away, leaving the shop owner to deal with the cheeky merchandise.

After making awkward eye contact with a haggard-looking witch she passed and nearly tripping on the uneven ground, Hermione thought it would be best to avert her gaze to the cobblestones, as to avoid any more trouble. She instantly regretted looking down when she saw how much muck and grime she was stepping in as she followed the crooked path of the alleyway.

She had thought that using the entrance next to Flourish and Blotts would mean that the walkway would be cleaner. But apparently not, as Hermione couldn't help but scrunch her nose and try to breathe as little as possible as she stepped over a suspicious yellow puddle.

When her skin began to prickle with the tell-tale feeling of being watched, she slowed down and cast a critical eye over her surroundings. From experience, she knew to trust her instincts.

Hermione risked a glance over her shoulder to look at the alley behind her. She could see that something was moving in the corner. A closer look revealed that it was only a scraggly looking man talking to a wall. Writing it off as nothing, she continued on.

Although the further she went, the narrower the alley became. At one point she was shoulder to shoulder with the other denizens. It was made infinitely worse when a man who was only slightly smaller than Hagrid came barreling past her and made her push herself up against the wall for him to get through. She tried her best not to flinch as he squeezed by, although he had been too busy talking to something with claws in his front pocket to really notice her. Very much like Hagrid, indeed.

She finally made it out of the narrow bit and breathed a sigh of relief as she got to the crossroad of Horizont Alley and Knockturn Alley and had to force her way through the crowded intersection. She dodged black robes and pointed hats that came at her from every direction, barely able to avoid being walked into several times, before she finally reached her intended destination: 13B.

She looked up at the sign just to confirm she was in the right place and indeed she was: _Borgin Burkes Est. 1863_. For over a hundred years this store had been curating dark antiques, artefacts, and cursed objects–-so it was naturally the best place to find the teaching tools she required for the coming term.

It also gave her the chance to gather what information she could about any research done into time magic, even if it wasn't Ministry-approved. She'd take anything to do with time travel at this point. She knew that unauthorised magic research of any kind was dangerous, but she didn't have any other choice if she wanted to find a way home. She didn't have any contacts in this time to help her with her research, and she had gone through all the other sources that she could get her hands on, so she was left with seeking out what she could from the underground wizarding community.

Being there, in front of _that_ store, felt so wrong. Her blood was rushing and her nerves pulsed along with it. She knew what she was feeling was fear, but it was irrational that she was feeling it this intensely, so she resorted to reasoning with herself - that she had faced down worse than a store. Merlin, she had come face to face with Voldemort himself and survived that. _This is nothing compared to that_ , she reaffirmed to herself as she quashed dread and urged herself to take the first step and open the door of the shop. The small tinkle of a bell from overhead sounded out, announcing her entrance.

The shop smelt of moth balls and the air was musty. Looking around, she could see that everything was covered in a thin layer of dust. The decour in the rest of the store wasn't anything to be impressed by. Random pieces of furniture were mingled amongst cabinets and bookcases. All of it came together to form a depressing sort of maze that she surmised was more dangerous than the one from the Triwizard Tournament.

Hermione tried to scout out some form of counter or checkout area, but there wasn't one in sight. Sighing, she made her way over to a bookcase overflowing with leatherbound volumes in a dingy corner of the store. It would be the safest place to start searching for things until she found a shop assistant.

There were several dark volumes on the shelves that looked like they hadn't been touched in years. She hovered her hands over the books, indecisive about which one to pick. Going for a crusty one on the end, Hermione choked and had a coughing fit when she read the title of the book that she had extracted: _Sensual Sorcery: A Guide to Seduction, Stimulation, and Satisfaction_.

"From the look on yer face, you would probably enjoy that book, girly." Hermione jumped and dropped the book at the rough Scottish voice that came from behind her. She spun around to see that a middle-aged man had emerged from behind a stack of cabinets close to the bookcase.

He looked her over, his thin lips curled back into a horrible smile that was more like a sneer. "Personal favourite, this book of mine," he commented as he leant down to pick it up.

He stood back up and dusted it off. "Want to buy it?" he asked her with a seedy grin. "Although, I suppose the better question is, do you want to try it? Or perhaps I can give you a demonstration?"

Hermione shook her head profusely. He chuckled at her reaction and slid it back into the bookshelf before hobbling back over to the closest cabinet. He unlocked the glass sliding door and placed a ring down on a velvet cushion inside. "What's a young lady like you doing in here? Wander into the wrong store did you, lass?"

She didn't answer, more intrigued by the ring he had just been handling. He peeked over his shoulder to catch her looking and flashed his yellow teeth at her. "You like the look of it do yah, lass?" He jerked his chin back at the cabinet. "I'm sure it would look quite pretty on your dainty hands."

"No, thanks," she replied as politely as she could, although it came out meeker than she intended.

The man snorted in disbelief. "Good idea, that. It's cursed to make any lass' finger shrivel up and fall off." He looked down at the ring contemplatively and then grimaced, making the wrinkles on his face much more prominent. "Odd curse, which just makes it a bloody pain in the arse to sell on." He shook his head, muttering to himself before shuffling off to a row of shelves that held more jewellery. He continued along for a bit, seeming to have forgotten that she was there.

She waited, unsure if he would turn back around to address her, but he never did. So Hermione dipped into her reserves of courage and made herself speak up. "I am here to procure some dark artefacts for–-"

The man cackled, cutting her off. He glanced at her and continued to chortle even louder at her expression. "You must be having a laugh if you think I would believe you are here to buy anything, girly. Or that I'm stupid enough to sell anything to yah."

Hermione's jaw dropped. "Excuse me?"

"You're excused, girly. Don't let the door hit yer arse on the way out."

Again, she was left aghast at how rude he was acting.

"I am not going anywhere," she replied through gritted teeth. "Now from the looks of the store, you could use the business, so are you going to do the smart thing and serve me or continue to be an idiot?"

He didn't react at all to what she had said. Instead, he started to whistle a rather off-putting tune and went about rearranging more displays.

"Are you even liste–-"

"I heard you, but I don't believe you," he answered.

"Why not?"

He scoffed. "You are probably just in here on a dare from one of ya schoolmates, and I ain't got no time to waste today, so be off with ya!"

Hermione straightened her spine. "I am the new Defence Against the Dark Arts Professor at Hogwarts, not a student."

"Nice try, girly." He guffawed. "I give it to you, that is an original 'un." He nodded at her, but his tone changed to something much darker for his next few words. "But I am telling you now, clear off before I lose my temper."

"Are you saying that you refuse to sell me _anything_?"

He grunted at her in response.

Hermione narrowed her eyes; if he was going to be a tosspot, that left her with only one option. He wasn't listening to her, so she would have to start speaking the language that made every salesman listen: money.

"Look— " she started to say.

"Oh, fuck off, already!" he roared at her, spinning around to finally face her, wand out. "I've already had Dumblefumble headmaster-bloke, down here warning me off sellin' to you lot. So, I'm not gonna be putting my neck out for a silly student trying to buy something she knows nothing about. So last chance, _clear off_!"

She could handle being threatened as it brought out her stubborn confidence. She just calmly glared back. "I want to buy dark artefacts. Will you help me or not?"

"Merlin, you really must be–—"

She pulled out the bag of gold, and the sound of many golden coins jingled in the silence of the store.

He lowered his wand. "The new Defence Professor you say?" He looked between the bag of money and her. It was obvious from his face he didn't want to turn down the money, but the fact remained that he was reluctant to do business with her based on her looks.

Hermione grinned. "I am not a normal Professor," she said reassuringly. "Now, can you show me that Hand of Glory," she pointed up to the withered hand, "or do I need to get it down myself?"

The man shifted back to his original greasy demeanour and gave her a creepy smile. "Now, even as a Professor of Defence, yer wouldn't be needing anything like that." He waved his hand up at the Hand of Glory. "That sort of thing is for thieves and no gooduns. However that book..." He shuffled over to where she was and extracted the book from before. "This might just be right up your alley, 'specially for someone your age."

Hermione kept her face blank and forced herself to remain calm. Sexism was still alive and well in this time–-things were not as progressive as they were with the 90's so she couldn't blow her cover or Dumbledore would never let her hear the end of it.

Her less than impressed thought must have leaked through to her face, as the sales assistant looked at her for a few seconds, before slotting the book back. "Or not, I can certainly get that hand down for yah, Miss, just two moments."

Hermione nodded and gave him a small smile as she waited for him to get the hand and come back. As she did, she let her eyes rove over the shop once more and lock onto what her next acquisition would be: a pair of gloves. From what she could see they appeared to be made out of dragon hide; however, leaning in closer and reading the faded writing on the tag, she could see that they were no ordinary gloves.

 _Cursed Item: When gloves come in contact with skin of non-wearer they will cause skin to be eaten away in an acid like effect. To be handled with caution. Price is Negotiable._

"Here is the hand for yah. Oh, you found something else you are interested in, aye?"

Hermione spun around. The man was back with the hand, which he had also dismounted from the stand it had been propped up on. He was wearing a pair of gloves as he handled it. He proffered for her to take it.

She grimaced. "No, thanks. I know what those things can do if they get a grip on you."

"Aye, aye, true that." He gave her a sceptical look before sending another toothy smile her way. "So you are also after those gloves then?"

Hermione smiled back. "Yes, I am. Can I also have a look at that dagger?"

"Certainly, but best you be warned–-"

"That if I get a cut from it, it will never heal. Yes, I am well aware. I can read the tag," she replied impatiently, crossing her arms. "I am a Defence Professor, and Dark Artefacts are my area of speciality after all."

"Alright, Missy. No need to get so offended, I was just asking," he said placatingly. "You did say that you were new."

"New does not mean that I don't know what I am looking for," she snipped back, fed up of being underestimated and judged. She went to tack on something else at the end of statement, but she stopped as she felt a tingle at the back of her neck. It was the same from earlier, when it felt like she was being watched.

Casting a glance outside, she didn't see anything through the shop windows. So she shrugged it off and went back to her hunt for dark artefacts.

* * *

"Shit! Get down!" Sirius hissed at James as he saw the bird was turning in their direction.

It had been a struggle to make it through Knockturn Alley without her spotting them as she had constantly been looking over her shoulder. But it also meant she was also definitely up to something suspicious and a very unsavoury character that was probably in leagues with You-Know-Who.

When James didn't react fast enough, Sirius gabbed the back of his shirt and gave it a forceful tug. "Didn't you hear me you, idiot? Get down!"

"Relax mate, she didn't see me and she doesn't even know what I look like," James said, moving to crouch down below the window.

Sirius facepalmed at his friend who still had the top half of his head peeking over the window sill. "Lower! You're bloody useless without your cloak."

Rolling his eyes, James dropped down to the ground, lying down next to Sirius. "There, is that better?" he asked sarcastically.

Sirius wasn't paying attention. He had stuck his head back up to see if the coast was clear and to keep observing the dark dealings that were currently unfurling in front of them.

He praised Merlin when he saw that the witch had turned back to the sales bloke. He definitely recognised the dagger that was been shown to her and he let out a low whistle of appreciation.

Without looking, Sirius put his hand out to tap on James shoulder. "James," he hissed and kept tapping. "James, you have got to see this. She is looking at some really dark shit."

"That's great and all, but could you get your hand off my junk?"

Sirius whipped his head around and saw that James was standing up and his hand had been patting his mate's crotch the whole time. He retracted his hand faster than a Golden Snitch. "Gah, gross Prongs," he exclaimed, a little louder than he intended, his voice echoing around them.

"Shhhh," James shushed him. Before kneeling back down next to Sirius. "Also, we are never to speak of what just happened again. Agree?"

"Agreed! Now would you look at that dagger?"

As James took a look his face went pale and he slowly turned to face Sirius. "That's a fucking Sanguine Dagger."

"I know," Sirius replied gravely. "This bird is bad news. I think that she had a Hand of Glory earlier as well…."

James inhaled sharply. "This is getting a bit heavy, Pads. We should probably get out of here and tell someone about this...Someone who can handle this sort of shit."

"Who are we meant to tell? Dumbledore? He won't believe us. We don't have any bloody proof."

"I know, I know, but just…" James was struggling for words. "I don't want my last memory to be stalking some bint that you had grudge against, you know?"

Sirius popped back down from spying and fully looked at James. "What are you on about?"

James huffed. "I don't like this, alright? There, I said it."

"You're scared?" Sirius scoffed.

James' eyes filled with rage at the accusation, but he took a deep breath and let it out slowly before speaking again. "Mate, you are obsessing, You do this. I am saying let it go for now. If we see her again, we can look into it more, but I don't want to spend the whole day stalking this bloody girl, alright?"

Sirius cast a quick glare back at the store before sighing and relenting to James. "Yeah, alright. Let's head back."

Sirius was in a brooding silence as they hiked back to Diagon Alley. He kept mulling over what he had seen. Why was she buying that kind of shit? Why had she been in Hogwarts? Still so many questions that he wanted answers to.

"Pads, you know you weren't backing down, yeah?" James' voice pulled him out of his thoughts. "You were being smart. We can keep an eye out for her in the future and next time we see her, we'll be ready. 'Sides, don't be such a sour puss, we still gotta go back and get that book for Evans"

Sirius let a small smile slip at James' effort to cheer him up. His mate knew him too well. The smile slipped off his face as he recalled what had happened in the book-store. "Oh, shit. We left Moony back there."

They shared a look and started to sprint back to Flourish and Blotts as fast as their legs would let them.

* * *

The rest of the day soon sailed by as Hermione roamed around the shop looking at one cursed object after another. Finally, she gathered everything suitable or that had piqued her interest and was at the counter having her purchases rung up by Mr. Havelock, as he had eventually introduced himself.

"This is a good variety of things that you have here, lass. Now I imagine you'll be wanting an invoice for the school? I can certainly bill these to Hogwarts I just be needing a name to be puttin' at the top of this paperwork..." He trailed off and looked at her expectantly.

"Oh, right, Her-" She managed to cut herself off in time. She still wasn't used to her new name. It didn't feel right, but it was what she had to use. "Sorry, Ophelia. Ophelia Sinclair, you can put down."

"Sinclair." He squinted at the paper as he began to write the name out, and Hermione couldn't help herself for interjecting to correct the abysmal spelling that she was witnessing.

"Yes, Sinclair. S-I-N-C-L-A-I-R."

"Yeah, yeah," he grumbled. "Doesn't matter how I am spelling it, the folk ups there will know who you are, and it's not like it's a common wizarding surname, anyway. Unlike the Havelocks, we have a pedigree that goes back for centuries."

It was difficult, but Hermione managed to let the insult slide. She didn't want to get drawn into a bloody pure-blood supremacy debate. She instead took a mental catalogue of her acquisitions to distract herself and glanced back and forth at the invoice to ensure that Mr. Havelock was documenting everything accurately at the correct price. She got the feeling that he wouldn't be beyond ripping her off just because she wasn't from a well-known family. So she made sure to offer gentle corrections every now and then when an extra zero appeared on the end of a price. Which served to make Mr. Havelock even crankier as he went on. When he was finished, she signed the bottom of the invoice with a flourish, and he handed it over to her.

She double checked it, making sure that everything was in order, before tucking it into her a pocket of her robes and pulling out a purse she had managed to have Cabby track down for her. The bag had had an Undetectable-Extension Charm cast on it, so she was well prepared for getting the items back to Hogwarts.

A grandfather clock chimed in the background twelve times, reminding her that it was quite late and that she had already been out all day, and she would need to be getting back to the castle soon.

Mr. Havelock's pulling out old copies of _The Daily Prophet_ broke her out of her trance. "Are you wanting any of these ones to be wrapped up?"

"Just the dagger and the bracelet if you wouldn't mind. The rest are going in here." She held her purse up, and he looked at it in confusion–a look she was becoming quite familiar with.

"How is all of that meant to fit in there then?"

Merlin, was this man a wizard or not? She rolled her eyes and struggled to hold back the bite of sarcasm in her words. "Extension Charms are wonderful, aren't they?"

"Righty-o then, I was just checking," he said, pulling the items towards him and beginning to wrap them with utmost care. His look was a mixture of sadness and relief. "You certainly do have an odd assortment of things here," Mr. Havelock commented, but upon seeing the look that Hermione gave him, he quickly added, "Not that there's anything wrong with that, Miss Sinclair. I only say that as I will be sad to see some of them go. That old Hand there has been with the shop since the original Mr. Burke opened up the store."

She nodded at him and made the occasionally polite, "Mhm."

Godric, she wished that he would hurry up and finish wrapping up her purchases. She had already wasted enough of her time. Oh, Circe's sake, how could she have been such an idiot and nearly forgotten her other major reason for going in there in the first place?

"Mr. Havelock, while I am here, I was wondering if you would be able to get your hands on anything time travel related for me?"

A sly smile spread across his face. "I could, but is this for Hogwarts? Or rather something to be kept off the books?"

Hermione raised her chin and looked Mr. Havelock straight in the eye. "This is for my own personal research. Not that that should matter."

"Don't get your wand in a knot, lassie. I was just asking to make sure."

"That doesn't answer my question, Mr. Havelock. Do you have anything in the shop at present that is related to time magic? Or should I go elsewhere?"

"Look here, lassie, as you can appreciate, those sorts of things are hard to come by and not just something that you would expect someone to have lying around. But I tell you what; if anything time related comes in store or crosses my path, I'll be in touch with yer, lass. I promise, and you can always trust a Havelock to keep his word."

"Of course," Hermione replied dryly and upon seeing that he had finally finished wrapping up the last of the objects, she grabbed them off the counter and swept them into her bag, hastily making her way for the door. She had a few more things to do in the Alley before she headed back to the castle.

* * *

"Headmaster's Office, Hogwarts," Hermione shouted out before dropping the Floo powder into the flames that were licking at her feet.

With a loud roar, she was sent hurtling through the network and in less than a second she found herself within the fireplace in Dumbledore's office. Coughing at the soot and ash that she stirred up upon arriving, Hermione cast a quick non-verbal cleaning charm on herself and the fireplace before she exited it.

"Ah, Miss Sinclair, you're back. I am glad to see that you returned from your trip safe and sound," Dumbledore said by way of greeting her. But the undertone of his words was there. _You didn't run into any trouble, did you? You didn't meddle with time, did you?_

"Very well, thank you," she answered simply. Her words were polite enough that it would keep up appearances of civil conversation, but also let him know that she wasn't interested in elaborating on how fruitful her trip to Knockturn Alley had been.

She made for the door but didn't even put a hand around the handle before she heard the old wizard calling out to her again. "If you are not in too much of a hurry–-" _Obviously, she was, and he knew it!_ "–-I am curious if you would mind showing me what items you managed to procure. I think it would be prudent that I look them over, just to ensure that they are appropriate before they are exposed to our students."

Hermione heard the creaking of wood and the shuffling of heavy robes as they scraped across the floor. Dumbledore had gotten up and was heading her way. She heaved a sigh but didn't turn around. Instead, she tightened her grip on the door handle and pulled her purse closer to her body.

"Is that really necessary?" she rebutted. "Don't you trust my judgement? You are the one that hired me as the Defence Against the Dark Arts Professor."

"Yes, of course. However, I would prefer to inspect myself, just to make sure," Dumbledore replied smoothly and from the sound of it, he was right behind her.

She gritted her teeth and reluctantly turned around to relinquish her bag to the older wizard, who carried it to his desk and began removing the items one by one. Looking them over, his expression became blank and unreadable.

He eventually got to the invoice and read the itemised list aloud. "Dagger - lethal. Gloves - acidic. Hand of Glory - cursed. Bracelet of Misfortune and matching Necklace - hexed."

Hermione stayed by the doorway, but pulled her wand out, ready to summon the objects back to her side. But Dumbledore didn't give her that chance. He placed the purchases back into her beaded bag and pushed it to the side.

He then levelled her a concerned look that from her experience usually meant a disapproving speech was about to be made. She wasn't disappointed. "Miss Sinclair, these objects... are terribly dark. I am not sure I can condone the use of these items in your lessons. It simply would not be responsible for me to allow for them in such close quarters at Hogwarts. Especially when you bear in mind that these are children you are teaching."

And there it was. The attitude that had led to the death of Sirius, Harry's parents, and countless others over the years. But she wasn't going to have it. So she marched up to the desk and grabbed the purse. "I know. I was once one of these children, and I was exposed to horrors much worse than what's in here." She shook the bag. "That was by your _own_ doing, sir."

"Now, Miss Sinclair, with all due respect, those circumstances were vastly different. You were at war we–"

She couldn't hold back her rage any longer.

"You are a fool if you don't consider there a war to be happening right now!" she shouted at the headmaster. Years of pent-up resentment and anger were now coming to the surface, making her see red. "Muggles are being slaughtered, blood supremacy and Voldemort's supporters are on the rise!" She was panting by the end of it, trying to catch her breath as all of the emotions battled to be at the forefront of her mind.

She shook her head and withdrew into herself a little. She ignored the pitying look that Dumbledore was giving her. "You may think they don't need to know what is out there, but I do. You gave me this bloody job, so that is what I am going to do. I am going to teach them about what is out there." She looked him up and down as she spoke the last bit of her piece. "I won't be so cruel as to send them out there to be lambs for slaughter."

With that, she stormed out of the Office, not caring that she had probably just insulted the most powerful wizard of the century. But she didn't care. She was going to teach the kids as much as she could. She knew what was coming and she would not be able to live with herself, knowing that she could have been able to do something to stop it all. So consequences be damned, she would find a way to save them or ruin the timeline by trying.


	7. Reality of Rainbows

**Hi! This chapter took a while due to broken laptops and my own laziness. But it is here and it is massive. 12k...you have been warned!**

 **It is also my fave chapter so far.**

 **Massive thanks and dedication to Bahowle. Best friend, alpha reader and genius behind some of the funniest lines.**

 **Beta Chop Shop team who are the real MVP:**

 **drwatsonn - amazing author and editor extraordinaire. Read her stuff!**

 **Islndgrl777 - brains behind the Remus scene and wrangler of commas. 178 edits. I bow to you.**

 **Crochetaway - busy lady, great writer, the amazing beta who teaches me so much!**

 **Also, shout out to mrsblack - writing buddy/cheerleader and awesome friend! Ty for listening to me stress and calming me down. I would be lost without you.**

 **Chapter Seven**

 _Reality of Rainbows_

"Bloody hell!" Sirius muttered in annoyance as he stepped out of the fireplace. "Why do I always get covered in soot?"

Glancing down at himself and scowling, Sirius cast a quick Cleaning Charm to remove the ash from his prized leather jacket. He didn't particularly want to be on the receiving end of another lecture from Mumma Mia about traipsing soot all through the house. The first time had been enough for him.

"You could be covered in worse things," James countered, as he exited the fireplace behind Sirius and walked over the white carpet of the drawing room without a care, trailing ash everywhere.

Sirius looked down at the black footprints James had left behind. "You might want to clean that up, mate," he suggested.

"I'm not scared of Mum," James scoffed. "To be honest Pads, I'm more worried about that bird back in Knockturn Alley. All of the Dark Stuff she was buying…" James frowned and a pensive look came across his face. "Although, after we ditched Moony in the store, probably have to worry more about him trying to kill us in our sleep back at school."

"Yeah," Sirius sighed in agreement. "I am gonna have to spend some serious cash to make it up to him."

"You will be buying him a lifetime supply of books and chocolate, you mean."

"I know," Sirius replied glumly at the thought of just how much it truly was going to cost to get back onto Moony's good side. "But you are gonna have to cough up as well, you left him there too."

James crossed his arms and raised an eyebrow at Sirius. "As I recall I was unwillingly roped into your scheme of tracking down some blonde bird who turned out to be bloody nutters."

"You still left him there," Sirius pointed out.

"Meh, I can just ask for some money from Mum then," James said nonchalantly. "Do some gardening and she is more than happy to bankroll with the galleons."

As if she was summoned by the thought of herself, Mumma Mia appeared in the doorway, looking very flustered in her nightgown. "You boys are back early," she said, sounding slightly out of breath. "How was your trip?"

"Yeah, we just–"

Papa Monty cut James off when he entered the room and leaned against the door frame behind Mumma Mia. "Boys, you are back already! How was the alley? Did you get a chance to check out the latest broom?" He looked quite out of puff as well–like he had just been chasing after a hippogriff.

Sirius smirked and glanced over at James to see if he had figured out what they had come home to yet. James was looking back at him in confusion. Sirius conspicuously glanced back and forth between their parents and wiggled his eyebrows as he did so. It was glorious to watch his friend's face transform in understanding of what his parents had spent the morning doing.

"Not. A. Word," James growled out in warning under his breath and then turned to reply to his parents. "Yeah, it was–"

James was distracted from finishing his sentence when a large barn owl flew in, hooting loudly as it did so.

"Universe just doesn't want to hear your voice, mate," Sirius joked but his laughter fell short when the bird changed its flight path to land on his shoulder.

He glowered at the creature as recognition of who it belonged to dawned upon him. It was his mother's personal owl and whatever it was in the damned letter attached to its foot he wanted absolutely nothing to do with.

Mumma Mia seemed to have had the same thought, as he heard her mutter, "This can't be good."

She made her way over to the owl and went to take the letter that was tied around its foot. But she quickly retracted her hand, gasping in shock when it tried to take a chunk out of her finger.

"Wretched thing!" Sirius snarled at it while the owl ruffled its feathers in agitation.

It turned its steely gaze to Sirius and hooted loudly into his ear. He raised his hands in a rush to cover up the sides of his head, his sensitive eardrums ringing with pain. One downside of being an Animagus was sensitive hearing in human form.

Through his fingers he could still hear it clicking its beak and getting impatient at still not having the letter taken off it. "Whatever you have I don't want it," he snapped at the owl.

It awkwardly flew up to perch on his head and dug its sharp claws in deep and refused to budge even as he tried to shake it off.

"Get off!" he cried in pain, the talons digging into his hair and scratching up his scalp. The owl just continued to click its beak in annoyance. But it held fast, digging its talons even deeper, and began to flap its wings to keep its balance.

Even with blood being drawn, Sirius did not give in. He would rather let a dragon piss in his mouth than read anything his mother had to say.

"Oh for Merlin's sake, boy. Just read the letter," Papa Monty barked in exasperation at Sirius.

"No!" Sirius stubbornly bit back.

James reached over before anyone could stop him and yanked the letter off the owl finally. "Really, Pads, who is acting scared now? Never known you to be afraid of anything that your Mum had to say before."

Relieved of its burden, the owl released its grip on Sirius and took flight. Its wings clipped Sirius on the way out, on purpose no doubt. The thing took after his mother in more ways than one.

"See, Sirius." James waved the letter in his face. "Wasn't that fucking difficult. So now open the damn thing and put yourself out of this bloody misery would you?"

"James Potter, you watch your language!" Mumma Mia scolded her son and snatching the letter off him.

"Sorry, Mum," James said sheepishly, rubbing the back of his head. "But you have to agree," he gestured to Sirius. "He is being silly about a simple letter."

"It's not _just_ a letter. It is a letter from Evil Incarnate which can only mean one thing: she wants something or she is trying to suck the joy out of my life. Whatever it is, I don't want anything to do with it. I have cut her out of my life and she is dead to me. So if you want to be a nosy git and read it, be my guest!"

"Alright then, I bloody well will," James replied, reaching for the letter that his mother was holding.

She quickly tucked the letter behind her and stared her son down. "You most certainly will not," Mumma Mia chided James.

"But Mum, he said I could! Right Sirius?" James looked to him for confirmation.

Sirius shrugged. "Burn it or wipe your arse with it for all I care," he said blandly, before James went back to harassing his mother for the letter.

Using the commotion as a distraction, Sirius made for the door and bolted back to his tent. He didn't want to be around to witness the battle that was about to unfold or to hear whatever happened next. He also wanted to heal up his head from that bastard owl.

Safely back in his tent, Sirius tenderly began to undo his hair from the ponytail it was in. "Fucking feathered shit," he muttered under his breath as he realised that his neck was streaked with drops of blood as well.

"Sirius?" came a muffled voice from the front of the tent.

"Bugger off!" he shouted back. He wasn't in the mood for dealing with anyone else today.

Hearing the tent flaps open he turned around to yell at whoever it was to fuck off but stopped himself short when he realised it was Mumma Mia

He frowned. "Listen, I don't care what's in the–" He paused to take a closer look at her face. Her eyes were watery and there were glistening trails of salt lining her cheeks. "What's wrong?"

He looked down to see she was holding the letter and scowled. "Whatever it is–"

"Sirius," she said in a broken whisper. "I'm sorry for opening your letter, but Alphard–Your uncle, he's–" Mumma Mia broke off the sentence with a shake of her head and covered her hands with her mouth.

Sirius instantly felt panic blossoming within his chest at the mention of his only decent family member. He pushed the feeling down and focused on Mumma Mia instead who was openly crying in front of him now.

He shuffled over to her and pulled her hand away from her mouth so could look her in the eye. It broke his heart to see her so upset but he had to know what was making her like this before he could help. "Mum? What is it?"

Raising a shaky hand that held the letter he didn't want, she began to read it out to him.

" _Sirius Orion Black, You are hereby summoned to attend the...the…_ " Mumma Mia was gasping for the words. Her bright blue eyes staring in the paper in horror.

Sirius reached out to take the letter off her, to save her the pain of reading whatever it was to him. She spotted his encroaching fingers and shook her head at him, passing the parchment off to him with shaky hands.

Sirius began to read from where she had left off. "– _the funeral and reading of last will and testament of Alphard Rigel Black_."

Sirius heard himself speak the words and felt his lips moving to make them. His eyes registered the text. His brain understood what they meant, that they formed a sentence, but he still wasn't able to comprehend it.

He gulped and staggered back a bit so that he was leaning against the tent pole. "What?"

Mumma Mia rushed forward to grab Sirius and pull him into her warm embrace. "I'm sorry, darling," she whispered into his shoulder. "He's gone. Apparently he went peacefully in his sleep. He was very sick, love, and…"

"But I saw him last week...we were going to go have a drink at the pub…"

Mumma Mia pulled back from the hug and looked up at him. The sadness that was slowly making itself known to his heart was already reflected in her eyes. "Oh, my boy. We both loved him very much. He was one of my oldest friends, I knew him from Hogwarts. We'll always be in debt to him for how he helped us become your legal guardians and it is horrible to imagine he is gone–"

"How can you be sure?" he asked frantically, trying to think of some possible way how it couldn't be true. "Walburga, she could have faked the letter! She would do something like that, you know she would…"

Mumma Mia wiped away a tear of his own that had escaped and brushed back some of his hair. "Maybe, darling." She put on a brave smile. "But I don't think that's the case."

"No, it's... it's not fair, Mum. She has to be lying!" Sirius was trying to keep it together. He really was, but knowing that the last decent member of his family was gone...the man that had basically been his second father...that had helped him escape and had looked after him...that he was gone.

It wasn't fucking fair.

"We are gathered here today to celebrate not the death of Alphard Black, but his life. As he requested, he wished for this affair to be one of joy and happiness. So please, spend this time together as family and friends to share the fond memories and love you all have for this man."

Sirius snorted at the fool who had been brought in to preside over the funeral. The ponce was some old-world pagan who had been friends with Alphard back in the day. Sirius could tell he was a priest from the purple robes he wore and the giant silver pentagram he had hanging from his neck. The crackpot was presiding over the precession at the request of the dearly departed himself, and who was he to deny the final wishes of his favourite family member?

He had spent the first hour or so at the wake hiding in the wings of the hall, trying to avoid being seen by any relatives. Spotting a tray of Giggle Water floating by Sirius took after it, the lure of something stronger than Butterbeer making him throw his cover to the wind.

He just managed to snatch up a glass before it disappeared back into the kitchen to be switched out for another tray of Butterbeers.

Shot glass in hand, he slunk back into the shadows and knocked back the shot in one go and enjoyed the brief burst of laughter that followed. It was hollow but at least he was half-doing what his Uncle had strangely requested for his funeral.

"Sirius Black? Is that you?" He flinched as he heard his name being called out from across the room. He didn't know which Pureblood asshole it was and he didn't want to know.

Sirius cast his eyes down to his scruffy dragon scale shoes and too-long dress robes that Mumma Mia had forcibly wrangled him into this morning when she found out he intended to rock up in jeans and leather jacket. Hoping that whoever had hollered at him would just move on and leave him the hell alone.

"Merlin's beard, it can't be!" came the voice again, closer this time.

Sirius gritted his teeth and continued to look down. If he didn't see them hopefully they would get the idea to fuck off and leave him well enough alone. He didn't have the patience or the mental capacity to pretend to care about some crusty old hag's stories about his uncle or what anybody in the room had to say really.

He had noticed that every Pureblood of the Sacred Twenty-Eight that was forty and older had been invited to the funeral and all of them would no doubt have something to say about him being branded as a blood traitor or to try and talk him around into the _correct way_ of seeing things. Or worse, trying to set him up with one of their horribly inbred daughters.

He knew that he was a product of such inbreeding but he liked to think that he had come out fairly sane compared to some of the other family members that were in attendance.

A hand clamped down on his shoulder. "Salazar's Whiskers, it is! Look at you dear boy, you're all grown up. Why the last time I saw you, you were no taller than my hip."

Swinging around to face the owner of the voice, Sirius felt his heart sink even further. It was the worst possible person to have run into other than his mother: Cassiopeia Black. His aunt and torturer of children's cheeks. She looked every part the bitter old spinster hag that she was. His scowl was the exact opposite of her thin-lipped smile.

As predicted, his checks became victims to her bony fingers' deathly pinch. "You look so much like your grandfather," she said with such whimsy as she catalogued all of his other features and went on attributing them to other members of the family. "But, you have the Bulstrode nose and eyebrows. Thank god you got the grey eyes from your mother and your chin! Oh, it reminds of that Malfoy lad."

Sirius was barely able to restrain himself from gagging at being touched by the old broad, and secondly from flinging a Stinging Hex the bint's way. She had just damn well insulted him by saying he looked like the dried up bat that was his grandfather.

Pushing down his disgust and remembering that his uncle would less than thrilled at an all-out family battle at his funeral, Sirius managed to grind out a semi-polite reply to the hag. "Hello, Aunt Cassiopeia. Imagine seeing you here."

But it was too hard to not at least throw one barb her way. After all, if he didn't it wouldn't be considered a true Pureblood greeting. "I am very surprised that you are here," he went on, trying to sound as nonchalant as possible. "I heard that you are quite busy in Paris nowadays, entertaining many guests. So generous of you, opening up your home to Muggles as well as wizard folk."

Cassiopeia's smile turned from charming and polite to feral in record time. Her eyes glazed over from friendly to icy as she bared her teeth at Sirius.

Leaning into him she hissed her retort to his insult. "Well, it isn't hard to tell that you've been keeping less than civilised company of late, Sirius." Her eyes narrowed to be near snake slits. "But I suppose it was only a matter of time before you became one of those disgusting degenerates."

Sirius smirked. Oh yes, he had well and truly pissed her off, but he wasn't done yet. "Do tell me, Aunt Cassiopeia, what are you trying you accuse me of?" he asked, feigning great offence.

"You know what you are," she seethed, trying to glare him down. But even in heels she only came up to his shoulder so the effect was more comical than anything. "You dishonour the ancient House of Black. You are a blood traitor!"

"Oh that?" he replied flippantly. "That's old news, Aunty. Please do try and keep up. But do tell me, when do you plan to finally get a husband? It's been a few decades that you've had to look for one after all."

He couldn't help but chuckle as her mouth became pinched and looked like she had been force-fed dragon shit. It was the best thing he had seen all week. Before she could get another barb out, their conversation was interrupted by the old fogey that was in charge of the chaos.

Swooping in, the priest pulled out the charm right off the bat, drivelling platitudes off to his aunt like no tomorrow. "You must be the beautiful aunt I have heard about. Cassiopeia, if I'm correct?" He reached for her hand and bowed down to place a kiss upon her knuckles.

She grimaced as his lips made contact but wiped it away as soon as he glanced up. "Charmed," she drawled and pulled her hand out of his grasp. "I don't believe that we have been formally introduced."

Taking the hint, the man bowed again. "Many apologies, Madam. I am Brother Mystle. Alphard was a dear friend of mine and he spoke fondly of you, so much so that I just had to meet you."

An over-plucked eyebrow arched up. "Did he?"

"Yes." He nodded solemnly. "I can't imagine how horrible it must be for you to have lost your nephew so suddenly like this." He reached out and placed a hand on her forearm. "Please know that if you ever need anything that you are most welcome to contact me at any time." He winked at her. "I am at your disposal."

Cassiopeia squinted at Mystle and opened her mouth to respond but seemed to think better of it. "I will keep that in mind," she said in forced politeness and turned leaving the two wizards, robes flaring behind her.

Sirius nearly dropped his glass when he heard Mystle's next comment. "Awful woman, Alphard was right that even a Horntail in mating season is nicer than that old bird."

Eyes wide and disbelieving his ears, Sirius stared at Mystle, who chuckled at the bewildered look on his face. "It's alright, my boy. I was friends with you uncle after all, remember."

That didn't bring Sirius any comfort. He continued to eye the fellow sceptically, unsure if he could be trusted, although his actions certainly gave him merit. He could just very well be an ally for the rest of the service, even if he was in charge of the sham.

"How do you know me?" Sirius asked, deciding that it would be best to at least cover some basics off.

"Alphard went on about you all the time," Mystle chortled. "I would say that you were the old boy's favourite relative." His eyes twinkled with something Sirius thought to be mischief but as quickly as he saw it, Mystle blinked and took on a serious look. "He did say that you were different from the others."

"Yeah, I'm different alright," Sirius agreed and let out a dark chuckle. "I am the black sheep of the Black family."

Mystle smiled at him sadly. "That is why he loved you all the more, my boy." He glanced down at his watch. "Regardless, it's getting late and I do still need to speak with a few people. Please do excuse me."

Sirius shrugged. "I can handle myself."

Mystle beamed and clapped him on the shoulder. "I know you can, but try not to cause too much trouble, alright?" With one last gentle squeeze, Mystle shuffled off, leaving Sirius to wonder if somebody had been spiking the drinks, because he had no bloody idea what that had been about.

Sure, it seemed like the Mystle chap was an alright bloke, maybe a few sandwiches short of a picnic, but the pagan ones were usually quite strange. It was odd that his uncle would associate with him, as he was usually quite against the old world way of things.

Musing to himself about what he didn't know about his uncle, Sirius spent the rest of the wake dodging and avoiding other relatives. He did unfortunately get drawn into a couple of debates about the dichotomy of blood status and the impact that it was having on wizarding society, but he quickly excused himself, unwiling to deal with his insane relatives.

His thoughts on changing his surname were interrupted by Brother Mystle. "Gather round, yes, all of the main family would be so kind as to take a seat in the parlour."

Having no intention of willingly being stuck in the same room as his mother, he started to make for the exit but was stopped by a set of claw-like fingers reaching out and wrapping around his upper arm.

He looked down and saw the pale hand of his mother. He curled his lip back and growled at her in warning. "Let. Go."

"Sirius!" his mother hissed at him through her teeth, a deceptively cold smile spread across her face. "Get in here, or there will be Hades to pay."

"Fuck–" _off_ , he didn't get to finish telling his mother where to go as Brother Mystle chimed in, calling for him. "Sirius Black? Is he still here?"

Walburga's beady eyes darted from Mystle to Sirius. Seeming to have made up her mind, she raised her chin and called out, "Yes, he is. In fact, he is right over here." She pulled Sirius round to the front of her, clamping her other hand down on the back of his neck so that he couldn't take off.

"Splendid!" Brother Mystle smiled warmly at Sirius before his gaze went back up to Walburga. "Would you mind gathering the rest of your family Madam Black, as I do believe it is time I read Alphard's will."

"Of course," Walburga agreed and made her way into the parlour, dragging Sirius along in front of her.

She shoved him down into a chair at a long wooden table. He made to get up and leave but didn't get far. She sat down across from him, pointing her finger at him and shooting him an icy glare as she warned him, "Behave or I'll have you sent off to Durmstrang! I am still your mother and have a say over what school you go to. So if you ever want to see Hogwarts and your blood traitor friends again..."

Shit. She had him by the balls on that one. He reluctantly sat back down. She still technically had the power to do that. But not for too much longer. He was nearly of age and once he did turn seventeen she would have jack-all power over him anymore.

Crossing his arms, Sirius glared as his father waved away extended relatives to leave them and started heading over to join them in the parlour. Regulus soon followed after him. The last to enter was Cassiopeia and Brother Mystle who followed her, sliding the door shut behind him as he did.

Mystle looked around and counted people off the five necessary people under his breath. "All here? Yes? Excellent, wonderful," he confirmed to himself before taking the spot at the head of the table.

"Why are we here?" Regulus sneered with distaste at sitting so close to Sirius. "More importantly, how long are we going to be? I don't have time to waste waiting around with traitors!"

Sirius couldn't help but spit back, "If you can be patient for once in your life, we might find out you bloody git."

"Silence, the both of you!" Walburga commanded.

"But Mother–"

"Enough, Regulus."

Regulus reared back at the harshness of Walburga's voice. Sirius smirked and made sure that Regulus saw him do it. Sirius was used to her taking such a tone with him. But come to think of it, he didn't recall her using any other kind of voice with him. Her simpering and coddling had all been saved up for Regulus.

"Well, we are here for the reading of your dear uncle's will, boy," Mystle curtly replied, appearing to be upset by Regulus' outburst.

His brother crossed his arms and slumped back into his chair, sulking at being told off by two adults in the short span of five minutes. Sirius rolled his eyes at the ever goody two shoes. He turned his attention back to the pagan priest when he saw that he was pulling something from his robes.

Brother Mystle adjusted his glasses and licked his paper thin-lips before unrolling the dustmite-bitten scroll and proceeding to read out the will of his uncle.

"I, Alphard Rigel Black the fourth, do hereby set down my last will and testament to be carried out upon my death by the executor of my estate; Brother Mystle.

My collection of the model Hogwarts Express is to be donated to the Model Train Enthusiasts Guild in London."

Sirius tuned out there. Mystle continued waffling on about the most random and boring things he could have imagined in the universe. He glanced up at the clock and saw it had just hit 2 o'clock.

Merlin, he had been there for over three hours. Three hours of his life gone and never coming back. Deciding enough was enough, Sirius decided to try and speed things up.

"Uh, sorry to interrupt mate, but how much more is there to go?" Sirius asked. "I got places to be you know, and as interesting as it is to hear that his stuffed house elf head collection has been donated to the Natural Wizarding History Museum, I don't need to be around to hear it, yeah?"

To be honest, he was more itching to be free of the stuffy and awkward room so that he could start drinking his fire whisky and start mourning the passing of his uncle properly.

Walburga appeared to be utterly mortified by what he had just said. _Good_ , he thought smugly, as he noted that she had gone even paler, which he hadn't ever imagined being possible.

"As you wish, Master Black."

Wait, what? Brother Mystle was hurrying up?

Pushing his glasses back up his nose, Mystle skimmed over the scroll until he got to the bottom. "Ah, right, here we are."

He went silent as he read over the paragraph a few times. Sirius could tell that whatever he was reading couldn't be good. Especially when the corner of Mystle's mouth turned up into a small smile.

He wasn't the only one to notice.

"What is it?" Regulus blurted out, unable to help himself. Always the sticky beak that one.

Walburga gave him a _look_ but didn't verbally reprimand him. No doubt she was curious as well about what was going on.

"Apologies, all," Brother Mystle finally said. "I was just double checking the final and most crucial part of the Will. Alphard's financial and estate holdings."

Sirius could hear the bag of galleons being dropped in his mother's head. She had always been keen to get her hand on other family members' private wealth so that she could stash it into the Black family vault. She was obsessed with trying to become richer than the Malfoys.

Clearing his throat, Mystle resumed his reading. "I, Alphard Black, bequeath the holding of my personal Gringotts vault and all of my stocks and financial holdings to Sirius Orion Black, the third."

Sirius went numb. What? He hadn't heard that properly. His uncle had left everything of value–all his money, his books and entire vault to him?

"Huh?" he managed to weakly ask, but he doubted that Mystle heard him over his mother.

The breath that Walburga had being holding came out in a whoosh of air. "Impossible!" she screeched, storming over to Mystle to snatch the scroll out of his hands

"There has to be a mistake…" she muttered to herself as she scrambled to read over the will and verify that Mystle hadn't just been making it up.

Getting to the bottom of the will she let out a shriek and threw the scroll onto the table. She then quickly stood up and began to pace around the room, all the while muttering about her ' _bastard of an uncle_ ' and how he was a 'blood traitor'.

Taking the chance, Sirius snagged the scroll next and had a read for himself. Scanning the bottom, he let out a heavy sigh as he saw his name had indeed been inked in by his uncle's own hippogriff-scratch. He gulped as he read the total value of what he was being left.

About a million galleons and his uncle's favourite cottage, but also all of his stock investments and rare book collection. Merlin, no wonder the banshee was pissed at his uncle.

"Well, my boy," Mystle said, pulling Sirius from his thoughts. "You said that you were in a rush, so would you like to si–"

"No!" Walburga howled swooping in to hover over Sirius. "He is doing no such thing. He is still under seventeen so as his mother–"

"Fuck off," he finally managed to ground out. "I may be a minor, but my guardians are the Potters." He shrugged her bony hands off his shoulders.

Her face creepily transformed from rage into some sort of twisted affection as she crouched down to look at Sirius in the eyes. It was scary, he had to admit, to see his own eyes staring back at him.

"Darling," she cooed at him, making Sirius recoil. "You wouldn't know what to do with all of that money, or how to handle the estate."

Ah, that's where she was going with this.

"You can even come back and live with us, be a true Black again. You will be forgiven. It's not too late to redeem your honour."

"Really?" he asked, forcing his voice to sound hopeful. "I can come back to the family if I sign it over to you?"

He could see the greed in her eyes as she enthusiastically nodded. "Of course, sweet, I have missed you so much."

He pretended to contemplate it. "Alright, but the only problem is my old room. I can't go back there – it is so cold, unlike Regulus' room."

Her face looked pinched for a second, but she maintained the smile. "Oh my dear, I am sure Regulus wouldn't mind if we moved him."

"Mother!" spluttered Regulus.

"Don't start Regulus," Walburga hissed, glaring at him.

As they began to bicker, Sirius beamed with glee at the chaos he had caused and walked over to where the scroll had been left and signed his name, sharing a smile with Brother Mystle as he did so.

Walking out the door, the scream of rage from his mother was like music to his ears.

The wrought iron gates out in front of Uncle Alphards place loomed imposingly over Sirius. Standing in the shadow of the monolithic structure, he tried not to shiver.

His gaze wandered up the gravel path that lay behind the gate. He heaved a heavy sigh and pulled out his wand to unlock the gates of the property he had just inherited. Along with the contents of whatever lay inside it.

" _Alohomora_!"

The gate didn't budge. Shit. Probably had some fancy old-fashioned locking spell on it. Which meant he was going to have to go old school for this.

Changing his stance, Sirius rolled up his sleeves and made sure that his wrist was nice and loose before he cast, " _Aberto_."

It remained locked.

"Oh, come on," he shouted, kicking at the gate.

When his foot connected with the metal, it didn't make an impact or even cause the iron bars to rattle. It instead passed right through it and near made him lose his balance. Furrowing his brow, he put his hand on it found that it passed straight through it.

"Of course, blood wards," he muttered to himself in realisation.

Taking the giant step, Sirius stepped over the threshold.

Not much had changed since the last time he had been there, so he was easily able to let himself in the front door and find the library. After leaving the will-reading in chaos an envelope of instructions had been delivered by owl.

Alphard had said that Sirius needed to head over to his house and locate a certain book, if he ever died. He hadn't said exactly where it would be, but tracking it down wasn't going to be an easy task, Sirius knew that much. Mainly because from the sounds of the title, it was going to be a magical book and they were usually resistant to Summoning Charms and knowing the hoarder that his uncle was…there were going to be piles upon piles of random books.

The front door had a rusty handle that looked like it would fall apart at the slightest touch, so Sirius pulled out his wand to get it to open – not wanting to cause any damage the house. The wand wasn't necessary though, as the blood wards came into play once more.

The door slowly creaked open, and he stepped inside.

Taking in the place, it was just as Sirius feared. Every spare surface was covered in junk. The sheer amount of it had him shaking his head. His uncle had gotten deeper into the hoarding in his final years, and the joyous task of cleaning it all up seemed to have fallen upon his shoulders.

Shutting the door, Sirius kicked off his boots and shucked off his jacket. The Warming Charms were holding steady despite the death of their caster.

The first call of business for him though was to find the liquor cabinet. If he wanted to stand a chance of surviving today and not becoming a complete sad sack, he was going to need that bit of liquid courage.

Sirius didn't have to look around for long. The first room upon entering the home was the library – also the most likely place to be locating that bloody book he had been instructed to find and an excellent spot to be keeping the good stuff. He could trust Alphard to have put the liquor in an easily accessible place. With a quick flick of the wand and an _Accio_ to summon a tumbler, and the fire whisky.

When he turned to look at the mountains of books though, the first glass didn't last long at all. It was gone quicker than a snitch on a pitch.

Heaving a sigh, he put the glass down and got started on finding the book, which actually didn't turn out to be that hard after all. It was on top of the closest stack near the liquor cabinet. It had a nice bright green cover and gold inlay on the pages.

He raised his eyebrows at the title, _Reality of Rainbows_ , but cracked it open anyway, per the instructions of his uncle, who he became even more certain had gone off the rails once he got into the first page.

 _If you asked any normal wizard about what is at the end of a rainbow, they would probably say the letter 'W'. But let me tell you, they are fools. All of them. Because, I know better! In fact, I've found the solution to all of mankind's problems. But how have I done this, you may be asking?_

 _You see, I knew, as we all do, that at the end of every rainbow a Leprechaun can be found, but it also holds the gateway to their kingdom. A land of endless riches and gold that never vanishes. But you see this gold is cursed because they stole it from the House Elves who stole it from…_

Sirius stopped reading there, unable to handle the utter nonsense that was on the page. Still, the instructions were to finish the book, so he flipped through to the end and hit the jackpot, so to speak.

The hardback was hollowed out at the end and appeared to have some weird sort of Extension Charm on it and something in there as well that glinted brightly. Reaching in to elbow depths, Sirius felt something cool and metal at the bottom of it, along with something that felt like a note.

Grabbing both with difficulty, he yanked them out, finding that the cool metal object was a flask and that the note had been put around the neck of it. Tugging on the note, he read, _Sirius, take a swig of this when I have kicked the bucket. Promise it will make you feel better_.

What in the name of Merlin? He furrowed his brows as he cautiously removed the note and unscrewed the lid of the flask. He took a whiff and pulled back as soon as he did.

The scent burned the inside of his nose. He could tell it was alcohol and particularly strong at that. He scrunched up his nose a few times to try and bring the feeling back into it. Sirius grabbed the note again and flipped it over upon realizing that there was writing on the other side.

 _Fire whisky and phoenix tears. Aged 50 years_.

Sirius nearly dropped the flask in shock. How the hell had his uncle managed to get this hands on this sort of treasure? This combination was a well-known homebrew delicacy throughout the Pureblood community. He had often heard Alphard talking about it with his father and how if they did ever manage to get their hands on the ingredients that they would have the best night of their lives.

That fantasy had quickly been squashed by Walburga marching in and saying that no husband of hers would ever be taking a part of something as vulgar as home brewing alcohol. But it appeared that his uncle hadn't given up on that dream and had gotten his hands on some of the good stuff.

This naturally meant that he had to sample it, as it didn't look like Alphard ever got the chance. This stuff was also foretold to be great for mending heartache – something to do with the belated healing properties of phoenix tears or some other mumbo jumbo.

Raising the bottle up in salute to the dearly and eccentrically departed, "This is for you Uncle, hope that wherever you are there are lots of books and witches to keep you entertained." Sirius then took a big gulp and had to resist coughing as it went down his throat. This stuff was potent – but that is how he wanted it.

He also wanted to make sure that he did keep the memory of his uncle alive. So when the fire whisky ran out at the cottage and he grew bored of sorting through books, he flooed back home to the Potters' and made his way down to the local wizarding pub, the place that Alphard and himself had been intending to meet up the following week. He had shouted to everyone at the pub that 'a round was on him' in honour of Alphard.

He also managed to strike up a rather interesting conversation with a burly Irishman about his Uncle. He had apparently known Alphard because they played cards together every now and then. Sirius, in his drunken state of mind, had offered to take his Uncle's regular place. What he hadn't realised though was how high the stakes were for the game.

He had managed to keep them at bay for a bit but when it came down to actually playing the game he had to come up with something. Desperate to buy himself more thinking time, he shoved his hand in his pocket and fingered the flask and asked, "What's your bet then?"

The Irish bloke grinned, showing off golden rows of teeth. "Me pride and joy, Uberta."

"What's that? A stuffed Hippogriff?"

Unphased by Sirius' smart-alec answer, the Irish bloke kept smiling. "No, you little shite. It is my motorbike. You might have seen her out the front. Right beauty she is." He was beaming with such pride as he spoke about the vehicle, Sirius had to think he had to have near given birth to it, which just made it all the more tempting to win it off the cockhead.

"Alright," Sirius snapped. "I'm in." He slammed the flask on the table in front of the bloke. "This is my buy-in."

Hairy red caterpillars shot up and disappeared into the Irish bloke's forehead. "What's that? A bottle of your piss?"

"No, you uncultured swine," he snorted, swaying as he made his way around to the table so that he was standing next to the Irishman. "It's fire whisky mixed with Phoenix tears."

The man leaned forward to look at the silver container and furrowed his brows before leaning back. "And my mother is the Queen of England," Irish dickhead spat. "Do you think I am some half-brained Pixie, boy-o?"

Sirius scoffed in the way only a haughty son of a Pure-blood could. "If you can't tell fire whisky apart from piss…" He turned his nose up at Irish fella. "Not sure I trust you to be pouring the drinks then."

"You got a big mouth on you, boy. Anyone ever told you that?"

"Only your wife," he replied without thinking.

"Haha. You don't know when to quit do you? Tell you what, boy-o. Put your money where your mouth is."

"I don't think your bike is worth Phoenix tears," he said cheekily, not caring at this point if he did get a beating from it. It would feel better than the numb sadness that was still following him around. So far nothing was a good enough distraction. But maybe, this bloke would be able to fix that up.

The Irish bloke rushed to his feet. "Don't push your luck, alright?" He glared at Sirius for a bit before sitting back down and taking another sip of his drink and jerking his chin at the chair across the table from him. "So, are you going to actually bother to play or are you gonna be standing around all night flapping your gums?"

Without any hesitation, he pulled out a chair from the table and sat his arse down and started to shuffle cards. "Prepare to lose," he declared and dealt the first hand of a new game.

 _Morgana's Fanny, it's fucking cold_ , was Sirius' first thought as he woke up. After that, the hangover gripped his mind like a vice and he was unable to string together another coherent thought.

All he was capable of was feeling like shit. Actually, he felt worse than that. It more felt like he had downed a whole bottle of Skele-grow and spent the night regrowing every single bone in his body - skull included.

Not to mention his mouth felt gritty. It felt like sand or dirt had been shoved down his throat. He went to spit it out but just the slight movement of his head to do so had him regretting it. It pounded harder than any hangover he had ever had before. Where was the healing rate of youth he was meant to have?

He knew that he was going to have to get moving eventually though. Because it was damn well too cold to be staying wherever he was for too much longer. Not to mention that he really needed to piss. Sensation was starting to come back to his extremities and he didn't want to have frostbite or anything falling off.

Resigning that there was nothing else for it, Sirius cracked open an eyelid and regretted it, more than he had in moving his head. Seeing the dirt and gravel surrounding him, it filled in the blanks for him. Like why he was so bloody cold and uncomfortable. He had passed out on the ground somewhere.

Just where, was the question.

Still not quite up to the task of sitting up, Sirius slid his lids shut once more and tried to remember the night before, but couldn't. Which was some scary shit. He nearly always remembered what he got up to when he got trashed or beyond wasted. All he could recall though was being at his uncle's, finding a stash of fire whisky and that was it. Nothing beyond that, which really didn't bode well.

His pitiful attempts at remembering the night before were rudely cut short by a loud shriek from James. "Salazar's Saggy Sack! Sirius, where have you been?"

Squinting open his eyes again, Sirius started trying to answer. "I've–" _been mourning my uncle, you twat_.

James cut him off as he squatted down next to him and gave him a slap on the shoulder. "Mum and I have been worried sick. Especially since you didn't come home from the funeral last night!" He shook his head. "You gave us a right scare."

"Sorry–" _that you and Mumma Mia are worry warts_.

James leaned in, his face close to Sirius' hair and took in a loud breath, before coughing and waving in front of his nose. "You fucking reek, how much did you have to drink last night?"

"Not–" _A lot_.

Sirius was really getting sick of not being able to finish his sentences. But the bloody prat had gone ahead and stood up and walked off to somewhere out of his range of vision and with how his head felt, he wasn't going to be rolling over to follow the git. But with what James said next, he didn't have a choice.

"Where in the name of Merlin, did you get a bloody bike? Did you fucking steal it?"

"Uh–" _What bike_?

Apparently the great big dirty Harley that was badly laying on its side, smack bang in the middle of a flower bed of everlasting tulips. The blue ones that were Mumma Mia's favourites and that she protected as if they were her firstborn child. In fact, it was up for debate if she loved the flowers more than James.

In equal amounts of horror, James had gone paler than snow. He finally did manage to croak out, "Why did you have to park in Mum's flower bed?"

"'Cause–" _he had obviously passed out here. Although he honestly had no fucking idea how he managed it_.

"How are you going to clean it up before Mum sees? Circe, she will turn you into a toad when she sees this!"

"I don't–" _fucking know because it feels like a fucking Augurey is screaming in my ear_.

"Fuck me, you rode through the roses as well and oh no, where is the water fountain?" James glanced around frantically for it. He eventually found bits of it strewn all over the lawn. "You had to run into the water fountain too? She just had that put in last week." James scrubbed his hands over his face. "You are going to be in so much shit. Which means I am going to get blamed as well, because I always do. Mum is gonna be _so_ pissed!"

He knew that. He also started mentally bracing for that shit to unfold. But it was hard with his ass still in the dirt.

"James, mate, do me a favour?" Sirius asked, relieved that he was able to speak without being interrupted.

"Yeah, what?"

"Shut up for a bloody second and help me up!" he demanded, holding out his arm.

"Alright, alright," James grumbled as he took Sirius' outstretched hand.

Swaying on his feet and feeling like he was on the back of a crazy dragon coaster, he bent over and leaned on his knees for a moment. His balance and bearings were slowly coming back to him. But not quick enough for the impatient arsehole.

"Oi! Don't go laying down again!"

Sirius glared up at James through his hair, which he just noticed also had dirt all the way through it."It feels like a dragon is skull-fucking me, so shut up and get me a Hangover Potion, would you?"

James shook his head. "Can't do that."

Sirius squinted. He was a having a hard time focusing on James with the sun shining from behind the prat. "You can't or you won't?" he asked in a deceptively cool voice.

"Won't."

"Why–" _the fuck not?!_

"Because you need to get your ass up out of the dirt and get it yourself. Last time I did, Dad thought I was sneaking it and had my broom confiscated for a week. Not going through that again, not even for you mate."

"Then bloody well piss off if you aren't going to help!"

"Hm, can't do that either, sorry."

"You–" _fucking what, mate?_

"James, have you found him?" Mumma Mia called out from the other side of the house and Sirius felt the urge to vomit return tenfold.

"James?" she called again, sounding like she was getting closer.

Sirius just couldn't catch a break. His uncle had died and he was about to have his balls chopped off.

"Shit, it's Mum," he whisper-shouted to James.

"I know that you prat, I can hear her as well," James snapped back, pulling on the sleeves of his jacket as he did when he got stressed.

"Yeah, so what are we gonna do about it?" Sirius asked. He brain was in no state to be thinking of contingency plans.

"Merlin, how the hell are we going to be able to hide this from her?" James said in a panic, gesturing wildly in every direction. "Especially a bike in the middle of a flower bed.

Sirius shrugged. "I don't know. Your turn to think of something."

"Damnit, ah–um, quick, shift into Padfoot!

"What, so you can say the dog crashed the bike into the flowers?" he rebutted sarcastically. "Mum will just think that you did it then."

They heard Mumma Mia calling out sweetly once more. "James?"

"Right, right," James muttered to himself, pacing around Sirius in circles.

He came to a halt as he had a light bulb moment. "Um, I'll distract her and you hide the bike in your tent or something and then we both meet up here and clean it up?"

"That is too much effort! Can't I just accept my death?" Sirius whinged.

James gave him a look. "I am not dying for your lazy arse."

Sirius sighed. "Fine, be selfish, go and distract Mum while I handle this bike, all on my own!"

With that, James dashed off to distract Mumma Mia and left Sirius with the task of shifting the motorbike manually by himself. He would have done it with magic but he couldn't find his wand in any of his pockets or on the ground anywhere either. Leaving him to muster the pitiful amount of energy that he had and wheel the vehicle all the way around the back of the house and into his tent.

He noticed while pushing the bike that there were shards of wood throughout the engine. A very odd mahogany colour that looked a bit like James' new Cleansweep. He got a brief flash of a memory from last night. An urge to make the motorbike fly. Too hungover to think too much of it, he focused back on the task at hand and kept pushing.

Once he made it to his tent, he was exhausted and ready to just spend the rest of the day sleeping. That dream was shattered as James came sprinting over and looked horribly panicked.

"What now?" he groaned, leaning against the bike for support.

"Mum saw the flowers," James cried, pulling him into the tent.

"Fuck," Sirius moaned, rubbing his hands over his face. "You had one fucking job, Prongs! What happened?"

"I was, I was! But then Dad was there too and I couldn't stop him and he told Mum about the flowers…"

Sirius needed more fire whisky. Stat.

He went to tell James as much, but didn't get to make it that far as Mumma Mia's Patronus came floating into the tent. Sirius held his breath as he waited for it to open its mouth and unleash its fury.

Instead, her voice was calm and pleasant. " _Please come up to the Manor. There is something we need to discuss_."

The silvery fox faded away into nothingness once it had finished speaking.

Cue James to go into full-blown meltdown mode. To Sirius' shock though, he didn't. Rather, he straightened up and leveled a look at Sirius. "Let's go and face our death, together."

He couldn't hold back the snort and once he started laughing, James soon followed, dropping all pretense of being serious.

"Ah, may as well get it over with. After you, Pads," James said, bowing in jest to Sirius.

"Why thank you kind, sir!" Sirius teased back.

Arm in arm, they strolled up the lawn together. Halfway there, James pulled up short. "Oh yeah, have you seen my new broom Sirius? I want to try and hide it before I get grounded for life."

Sirius thought back to the wood in the motorbike. Fuck. "Uh no, can't say I have, sorry, mate."

Once they were up in the Manor they were greeted straight away by Mumma Mia. "Darlings, Dumbledore is popping over because he wanted to have a chat with you about something rather important. So you two might want to remember where the shower is and have a thorough one before he arrives."

"But Mum," Sirius complained. "It's only Dumbledore, we don't need to dress up for him!"

Mumma Mia wrinkled her nose and gave her boys a distasteful look. "You smell like you haven't bathed in a week and you are both filthy and covered in Godric knows what. So while it may only just be Dumbledore, I would like to think that you would put in the effort of at least looking clean for my sake."

"But–"

"Don't argue, just do it, alright?" she warned.

"Yes Mum," they both moaned.

"Also, don't think we aren't going to talk about how you destroyed my gardens with that bike, Sirius. Or that you helped him James," she added before turning and leaving them to their own devices.

"Well fuck," James mumbled. He shared a glance with Sirius. "It's been nice knowing you mate."

"She didn't seem that mad though," Sirius said, confused at what James was getting at.

"Nah, mate. When she is calm, it means she is ready to commit murder and whatever punishment she has got in store for us is going to be worse than any detention we have ever had."

"What can she do that is worse than polishing all the crystal balls in the Divination Tower?" Sirius asked, disbelieving that sweet Mumma Mia would ever punish him too badly. "She loves me."

"You just wait," James advised. "One time she made me clean the whole Manor–Muggle style!"

"You're kidding," Sirius blanched in horror of the thought of using a Muggle contraption.

"Wish I was," James sniffed. "My elbows will never be the same."

Sirius couldn't help but tease James when he made it so easy. "Sure it's not from something else?"

"You boys better be getting ready!" Mumma Mia's voice floated into the room in warning.

"Yeah, we are Mum," James nervously called back before bolting upstairs to the bathroom and Sirius ran back to his tent to take a shower himself.

In what had to be record time, they had themselves ready and waiting in the sitting room for the Headmaster. Sirius was a bit jittery, worried that Dumbledore was being summoned to tell him that he wasn't going to be allowed to attend Hogwarts. His mother had made the threat and while he doubted the elder wizard would pay any attention to it, there was still the chance that it could go through. The Black family still had some high up connections in the Ministry and might have enough sway to make it happen.

His worries were cut short as the hearth sprang to life in an inferno of green and white sparks as Dumbledore emerged. Sirius internally rolled his eyes at his headmaster. He had noticed the man's flair for a dramatic entry a few years ago.

Not even waiting for him to be out of the grate, Papa Monty rushed forward and started to shake his hand. "Lovely to see you, sir! It has been an age."

"Ah, yes, Fleamont. It is good to see you too. Firm grip, you have. I trust that you are still a fair hand at dueling, no? Or have you retired from that?" Dumbledore asked with a mischievous twinkle in his eye.

"Hm, what's that about you dueling, Dad?" James piped up, curious to hear more.

"Nothing, nothing," Papa Monty said, shooing James away and shooting Dumbledore a look.

Chuckling at the mirth of Papa Monty, Dumbledore made himself at home in the sitting room and launched straight into the reason that he was there: to induct the boys into the Order of the Phoenix.

James ruined the grandeur of the statement though by saying, "The order of the what now? Is that some sort of nerd club?"

Sirius hid his face in his hands and Mumma Mia closed her eyes in exasperation and heaved a heavy sigh. Both of them appearing to think the same thing: _Only James_.

Papa Monty rushed to the rescue of his son though. "No, son, if you listen though, you will find out."

"But–" Sirius slapped a hand over his mate's mouth.

"Sorry sir," he said sheepishly, "go on."

Dumbledore smiled and launched into his spiel about the Order of the Phoenix and what it was all about.

Sirius loved the prospect of being able to combat the Dark Lord and to fight the foul gits that were plaguing Britain. It would be the perfect thing to work into his plans of being an Auror. It also meant he would be able to protect his family and friends from evil wankers.

His dreams of being a saviour were dashed though. Apparently since he was still in school and underage he wasn't going to be sent on any active missions or doing anything remotely dangerous or even cool.

"What's the point of inducting us then?" James scowled.

Mumma Mia cleared her throat and gave James the universal _stop being a brat_ glare.

"You are in a very advantageous position, James."

"To what? Fetch the paper for the adults? Shine wands?" James sarcastically accused.

"No. But good guess," Dumbledore replying merrily. "You are going to school this year and no one would expect someone as young as yourselves to be associated with us. Therefore you would most likely be privy to over hearing and noticing things that others may not."

Sirius laughed as he watched the gears turning in James' head.

"You mean we will be spies?" the youngest Potter asked, once again sounding excited.

"Yes," Dumbledore laughed. "Something like that. I would ask that you report back to me about anything unusual or suspicious that you might come across."

"Brilliant. I already have something for you!" James proclaimed.

Sirius shot his mate a worried glance. What was he on about?

"The other day Pads and I were in Knockturn Alley"- Sirius face palmed at James' big mouth- "and we saw some bird buy a sanguine dagger along with all this other dark stuff from Borgin and Burkes. Right Sirius?" James looked for him to back him up but he wasn't walking into that trap.

But as James continued to waffle on about their side trip, he felt the glare from Mumma Mia intensifying with each word.

Merlin, it be would be a miracle if he survived until the end of the night.

For the rest of the summer, Sirius dedicated his time to tinkering with the bike he had won down at the Pub, as he finally managed to recall how he had gotten it. He had grand plans of making it fly, not just down a road but up in the sky. It would be better than any old broom for sure, once he was done modifying it. The idea had come to him after he had found that in his drunken stupor he had tried to slot a broom into the engine of the bike. He still hadn't told James about it though.

For the first couple of days he had been able to hide the vehicle from Mumma Mia, so that she didn't confiscate it. But she had eventually caught him sneaking out to work on it one night after supper.

After the initial scolding of it was dangerous to meddle with Muggle technology that he had no idea about and that he could injure himself, she had thrown a shocker at him by saying that she was proud of him, as he was focusing on something and fixing it. Instead of blowing the money he had inherited on girls and booze. He had been flabbergasted at that complete 180 she had pulled. He nearly shat himself when she started talking to him about using appropriate protection when going for a ride.

Before he knew it, it was the 31st of August and his final year at Hogwarts was just around the corner. The evening before they went back to school, Mumma Mia and Papa Monty had sat both James and him down to have a talk.

It was the standard "don't get into trouble, get good grades, don't annoy McGonagall". But they threw a wand in the works by adding in that they weren't allowed to go on any missions for Dumbledore without being given a specific assignment from the man himself until they graduated – and that if Mumma Mia found out that they had she would skin them alive.

Surviving that lecture had been a feat in itself. But they did make it out alive to see the next day and board the Hogwarts Express. Albeit, they were quite late in getting to the station because James had forgotten his bloody lucky Quidditch jersey. Of course, he only just noticed that when they got into London, so they had to turn around and go all the way back to Potter Manor out in the country. They then had to wait for James to find the blasted thing.

All said and done, it was nothing short of a magical miracle that they caught the train. It was by the skin of their teeth as they had loaded up their trunks and said the final goodbyes stepped on board to realise that it was 10:59 AM and they had set about finding a compartment to sit in. All the while keeping a lookout for Peter and Remus, although the latter still hadn't been talking to them.

Sirius was beginning to give up hope that they would be able to find a spare compartment. His despair didn't last long though.

"This compartment looks empty, Pads," James called to Sirius from over his shoulder.

"You sure about that, Prongs?" Sirius shouted back. "Because the last one had a mental redhead in it who tried to kill us."

"How was I supposed to know that Lily was going to be a in bad mood?"

"Since whenever you're around you twit! Remember the whole, 'I hate you Potter' bit?"

"She is just in denial."

"She is as much as you, mate. So when you decide to leave Egypt let me know."

"Huh? Why would I be in Egypt?"

"Because denial is just another river," Sirius started to explain but stopped as poor James' face became contorted with utter confusion. "Know what, don't worry about it."

"Er, alright. But I still stand by my point. She wants me and she denies her mutual love for me."

Sirius shook his head. Nothing he ever said would make it through James' thick skull so what was the point of trying. "Whatever, Prongs. You will need to get over her, or yourself one of these days."

James shook his head. "You don't get it, Pads. Just wait till you meet a girl that makes you mental."

"Ah. Prongs," Sirius said, snagging the windows seat as James was putting his luggage away. "You know that no bird would ever be able to tame me, or to be able to handle all of my charms." He put on his most charming grin and ran his hands through his hair for effect.

"Merlin, how does that actually even work on anyone?" James retorted in mock revulsion.

Sirius made sure to throw a saucy wink James' way just for that. He also licked his lips. "You know it big boy," he said huskily.

"Gross, Pads." James gagged.

"Interrupting another lovers' spat are we?" Peter asked, sticking his head into the compartment.

"No!" James and Sirius shouted.

"Oh, it's so cute when you both do that," Peter cooed, cradling his hands to his chest.

"Oi, knock it off, Pete," Sirius requested, plopping back down in his seat.

"Yeah," James said. "It is downright creepy how good you are at that."

"As you wish gentlemen," Peter said, fully stepping into the compartment and taking the spot next to James.

Peter glanced over at the empty seat next to Sirius. "Where's Moony?"

Remus had made sure to arrive at Platform 9 at least half an hour early. After nearly missing the train last year, he didn't want to run the same risk again. Even though he had been early, he had been the dutiful friend and waited out on the platform for his friends to arrive. When it got to 10:55 he had called it quits and decided he would find them once the train left the station. His anxiety wouldn't let him wait out there another minute longer.

So he reluctantly boarded the train and began to seek out his friends in the various compartments, in case they had managed to sneak aboard without him spotting them. His heart sank though as he walked by each compartment and saw it was full of other students, none of them the Marauders.

He hadn't seen them since they had left him in the bookstore earlier in summer, and he had been quite stubborn about rejecting their owls. He felt a slight bit of remorse for that now as he didn't find them anywhere and he had gone through at least three carriages by now. Also, because he had heard from Peter that Sirius' Uncle had died.

He was right at the back of the train before he found a compartment free from the other students. Deciding it would be best to claim it so that if the other Marauders had in fact made it onto the train – although he very much doubted it – then they could bloody well come and find him. He was done with looking like a needy kid, wandering the train looking for his friends. Not to mention he had been lugging a case full of books behind him the whole way and he was quite keen to stash it away.

"Oh, hello," Remus heard someone greet him as he opened the door of the apparently not-so-empty compartment.

His bloody luck. Having a quick sniff, he scented magic on the door. The occupant had cast a Notice Me Not spell.

Remus took in the girl, who looked to be his age, sitting next to the window. She was dressed in Muggle clothes and looked to be as tired as he felt. She was looking at him as well, studying him as much he had her. Once she had finished her perusal she continued to stare at him pensively.

He flushed when their eyes met and he quickly cast his gaze down towards his shoes and managed to mutter back his own awkward greeting, "Uh, hi."

She smiled warmly up at him. "Well, don't just stand there like a stunned Flobberworm, come in," she said, gesturing for him to enter.

Remus hesitated. He didn't want to be rude. He was about to say as much but she put a stop to that. "You aren't being rude or trespassing or anything, so don't worry about it. The company would be nice actually."

She kept grinning and he couldn't help but let a small smile of his own slip. "If you insist."

Fully in the compartment, he pulled his case behind him. He was about to pick it up and chuck it into the overhead racks but she beat him to it. Whipping out her wand she flicked it to his case and had it soaring up and gently into place.

"There you go," she said. "Now come and sit down, don't be shy. I won't bite." She chuckled to herself at that last comment, but it put Remus on edge. Any mention of wolfish tendencies always did unless he was with his mates.

"Sorry for the bad joke," she apologised, sobering up from the chuckles. "I'm Ophelia," she said and extended a hand out to Remus.

He knew what the gesture meant. That she wanted to shake his hand and it was a perfectly normal sort of way to introduce himself, but he was not one to go around willy-nilly touching strangers and shaking people's hands. Despite the encouragement of his mates, he still couldn't move past the earlier conditioning that his parents had instilled into him. It was hard to move past the notion that you shouldn't touch anyone because you are different, you are unclean, and you are a monster.

But Ophelia, she held her hand out, patiently waiting for him to take it. When he did shakily reach his own hand out to shake hers, she kept the contact brief, but she didn't recoil or act annoyed at his hesitance. Most people tended to think that he was snobbish for not wanting to touch them.

She smiled at him again. "What's your name?"

Right, that was the other thing that usually followed a handshake and introductions. "Remus Lupin," he replied, trying to sound as confident as possible. There was a reason that he was known as the shy one.

"Nice to meet you," she chirped and moved closer to him. "Are you in your final year at Hogwarts?"

"Yeah," he mumbled, still not making eye contact with her. She was pretty, which just made it all the more worse.

He flushed as his thoughts took off in a less than innocent direction. She still continued to smile at him and kept asking him questions though. "Are you excited for it?"

"Yeah," he answered, although he could barely hear himself.

"That's good. I'm not actually a student myself, per say. I was just in London for the day and well, I wanted the chance to ride the train again, for nostalgia's sake, you know?"

"Um, not really, sorry."

Remus just really wanted this conversation to be over and to be able to leave the compartment already. He hated being on his own and having to make small talk with strangers, but he hated being rude even more so.

"Right, well, I will let you have this compartment to yourself," she said standing up.

"O–okay," he agreed, unsure what he had done to scare her off so soon.

He near jumped out of his skin when she patted his shoulder as she passed by. "I hope you have a wonderful term."

"T-thanks," he managed to stutter as she swept out the door.

Once she was fully out of view he flopped back onto the seat and cracked open a book to try and help himself relax, but he found that his attention kept wandering. So he shut the book and satisfied himself with gazing at the moving scenery that was passing him by. Thinking back over the conversation he couldn't help but wince at how awkward it had been, but at least it hadn't lasted too long, and she wasn't a student, so no chance of running into her again. Which meant that all he had to do was survive the rest of the year without running into her down at Hogsmeade or anywhere else.

Piece of cake, right?


	8. Wizards are from Neptune

**Thank you so much, everyone, for all of the reviews, favourites and follows so far and on the last chapter. I am so glad that you all like this story. But you should all know it wouldn't be possible without Bahowle. Who gets credit for the amazing lines in this chapter and helping me come up with ideas on how to torture poor Sirius. Huge thanks to Mrs. Black for being an amazing writing buddy and editor and friend!**

 **Beta Extraordinaire: DrWatsonn - She writes like she has a PhD in literature and always catches out my dialogue snafus! Thank you so much for helping me with this chapter and finding the time to look it over twice. It is a privilege to work with you!**

 **Also, also. You all need to go and read the fic: Right the first time by mrsmerlin13. It is amazing - a Sirimione as well and I promise you will love it!**

 **Anyway, enjoy the chapter.**

 **Chapter Eight**

 _Wizards are from Neptune, Witches are from Saturn_

The Start-of-Term-Feast was immaculate, as always.

High-vaulted ceilings were plastered in combinations of inky black and dark navy to form a background to thousands of glittering stars that looked over the students. Adding to the grandeur were hundreds of candles, floating amongst the rafters and seeming to sway in an imaginary breeze.

Each year, it took Sirius' breath away. He felt a twinge of sadness as he remembered this was his last year at Hogwarts, so he made sure to soak in the glory of it all, for as long as possible. What truly made the atmosphere come alive for him, however, was the sight of food piled up on tables in massive, elaborate towers and laid out in intricate, delicate designs that made it look all the more mouth-watering.

Sirius and the other Marauders had spent the entire carriage ride up to the castle talking about the feast and what they were going to eat first. Sirius announced that he was going to stick with the traditional course option and have his dinner before dessert. Remus, ever the rebel, would be having something sweet.

When the carriage pulled up to the front gate, James and Sirius bolted up to the Great Hall, their stomachs gurgling the whole way. They only slowed down when they reached the entryway and saw McGonagall on the prowl, meaning they had to briskly walk the rest of the way to the Gryffindor table.

They were quick to take their usual seats, which were already surrounded by younger students chatting away boisterously to one another about the upcoming term. Eyeing the roast ham that was just in front of him, Sirius looked at James and grinned. They both nodded to each other in agreement and started to serve themselves. Neither of them bothered with waiting for the first years to arrive, because what was the point of standing on ceremony or any of that table manners shite? Sirius figured he'd had enough of that at the Black family manor, as he piled his plate up high.

Remus and Peter, who had taken a more leisurely pace, eventually took their usual seats around Sirius and James, as he stuck into the mash potatoes. With his mates all around him and surrounded by good food, Sirius began to unwind and truly relax for what felt like the first time since his uncle's death. Not that he hadn't been at ease at the Potters' Manor; it was just that he knew his time there was limited. When he hit seventeen in a few weeks, he would need to start looking for his own place, as he didn't want to be one of those grown man-child wizards that still relied on their parents to support them.

About ready to take another bite, Sirius was stopped by a dirty look. As usual, Remus had to be a stickler for the rules. "Sirius, you're meant to wait," he muttered disapprovingly under his breath.

"But, Moony," Sirius whined, pouting dramatically, "I'm starving. If I don't eat right now, I could die. I mean, we haven't all had the chance to scoff down chocolate on the train ride up here."

Remus frowned and didn't look convinced.

"Look," James said, butting into the conversation. "The way I see it is that if they didn't want us to eat the food, why put all the food out?"

"Exactly," Sirius agreed before starting to try and take another bite.

An evil giggled sounded out, which made him pause with the fork halfway into his mouth. He surreptitiously looked around for the source of the sound, trying to see if one of his friends had done something to his food, but nothing appeared out of the ordinary. He shrugged it off and finally took a bite.

He was mid-chew when he noticed that everybody was scrambling away from him.

"Merlin, do I smell that bad?" He turned to ask James but was shocked into silence as he was hit with a waterfall of cold ooze, dripping and weeping all over him.

"What the fuck?" he spluttered, spitting bits of goo out of his mouth.

It took him a few seconds but eventually he realised he was soaked through with ectoplasm. Peeves, who was floating above him and tittering away with malicious delight, was to blame for the drenching.

The ghastly ghost appeared to have been saving up his ghoulish sweat and had dumped it on Sirius in one foul swoop. Probably his revenge for Sirius dobbing him into the Baron last year.

"Gah!" he cried as he wiped more of the supernatural slime off his face.

He was trying not to imagine what the human equivalent would be, but he couldn't help but worry that the spectre had covered him in spunk.

Once his vision had cleared, he climbed up onto the table and levelled the poltergeist with the fiercest glare he could muster.

"You're a fucking turd blossom, Peeves! I'll get you back for this!" he bellowed, shaking his fist at the undead prankster.

Said spirit simply blew Sirius a raspberry and saluted him with two fingers before he floated off to join the other ghosts.

Unfortunately for Sirius, McGonagall had witnessed his outburst. "Sirius Black! In all my years…"

Sirius turned and came face to face with the top of a very pointy witch's hat that he knew was McGonagall's favourite. His eyes kept travelling down until he locked eyes with a pair of fierce green orbs.

"Get off the table this instant!"

As Sirius started to climb down, she pulled him by his ear off to the side of the hall. "I don't know what makes you think it is appropriate to stand atop the table but I can tell you I will not tolerate it."

"Ow, ow, let go, McGee," he howled as she continued to tug him along.

"I will let go, Mr. Black, when you are capable of behaving yourself, and I have told you how many times to stop calling me McGee!"

"Okay, okay, please let go," Sirius begged. His ear was throbbing from her firm grip, and he could feel plasma sliding down the ear canal due to the angle his neck was in.

Finally releasing his lobe, McGonagall proceeded to give him an earful.

"You have outdone yourself, Mr. Black, you will be receiving detention before the term has even started!"

"It's not his fault, Professor," James insisted, having jumped out of his seat to come and save his mate. "Peeves just-"

"I don't recall asking for your opinion, Mr. Potter," McGonagall snapped without looking away from Sirius.

"But Professor–"

"Do you want points to be deducted, Mr. Potter?" She turned to look at James this time, and her eyes were blazing with fury. "If so, please keep going."

Sirius shook his head and gestured across his throat for James to cut it out, but the idiot either didn't see or just completely ignored him and continued to test McGonagall's resolve with further protests.

"No, but-"

"Five points from Gryffindor!"

"That's not–"

"Do I need to make it ten?" McGonagall warned, her voice holding a dangerous edge to it.

James quickly shut his mouth, knowing it would be best not to challenge the Professor's resolve any further. Even with the best intention of defending Sirius' honour.

The Scottish witch's infuriated gaze darted between the two boys. Her eyes finally settled on James as she addressed him. "I have to say, this is an abysmal start to your year, Mr. Potter. Don't think I can't remove you as Head Boy if you keep up this tomfoolery, as you can't even seem to manage something as simple as getting Mr. Black here to behave for one night."

"Potter, what are you doing?" Lily demanded, coming over to stick her nose into something that wasn't her business, as usual.

McGonagall looked perplexed at the presence of the other witch but also amused at the scolding she was giving James. "Merlin, can't you just not get in trouble for one evening! You are meant to be setting an example this year with your behaviour, in case you didn't bother to read your letter."

The older witch eventually cleared her throat to grab Lily's attention. "Miss Evans, what are you doing out of your seat?"

"Sorry, Professor," Lily answered in a rush. "I just came to grab Potter so we can work out patrol schedules . "

"No need, Miss Evans, I was just about to send them back to the front of the table, so that I can keep an eye on them for the rest of the feast."

Sirius blanched and spoke up for the first time. "Detention is fine, McGee, but sitting with first years? Come on, that's cruel!"

"I'll keep them in line for the rest of the feast. You don't want them sitting with the first years, they'll be a terrible influence," Lily promised. Her eyes flicked to Sirius, conveying: You owe me.

McGonagall gave Lily an assessing stare before nodding. "Very well, Miss Evans, make sure that you do. Also, please make sure Mr. Black cleans himself up and doesn't cause any more mess."

Sirius had to bite his tongue to not retort it wasn't his fault he was covered in slime.

Giving the two boys one final glare of warning, McGonagall sidestepped the teenagers and made her way back down the hall, no doubt to collect the first years.

Once she was out of sight, Lily rounded on the two boys. "Well, I hope you're happy with yourselves. We're in negatives for points and the school year hasn't even started!"

"Don't get your knickers in a twist, Evans," Sirius said, walking back over to the table and sliding into his seat. "We'll earn them back with our first game of Quidditch. Also, James can give us a few extra points here and there to make up for it."

"Whatever, Black," she sneered, before wrinkling her nose and giving him a disgusted look. "And for Merlin's sake, clean yourself up, or you'll frighten the first years."

"Yes, your majesty," Sirius said with a mock bow, trying to fling some of the residual goop onto her. She just rolled her eyes and sauntered back to her gaggle of friends, or so he had thought. She actually sat a few spots up from where they were.

Sirius flipped her off while her back was turned. "Bloody pain in the arse, brown-nosing bit–"

James' eyes had been on Lily until he heard Sirius' insult. "Oi," James cut in, finally drawing his eyes away from the red-head.. "Don't insult my future wife."

A Lily-Potter-monologue from James was the last thing that Sirius wanted to hear right then.

"Shove off," he snapped back at James, before turning his attention back to his food, which had thankfully disappeared and been replaced by a clean plate in a span of a few seconds.

Merlin bless house elves, he thought as he took in his clean plate.

James narrowed his eyes. "Once you get the ghost funk off you I will."

Sirius flopped his head back and sighed dramatically in exasperation. "For fuck's sake," he said, raising his head to level James with a glare. "I will, just give me a second."

Reaching into his robe pocket, he pulled out his engraved wand and pointed to himself and did the necessary S formation for casting the cleaning spell. " Scourgify ."

He waited, but the ooze didn't budge.

Grinding his teeth in frustration, Sirius wracked his brain for another cleaning spell. Recalling one that he had learnt back in second-year Charms, he decided to give that one a go instead.

" Tergeo ," he said, flicking his wand up and down.

He felt a cool tingling sensation all over his body, which was usually a sign that the Cleaning Charm was working, but he was still met with disappointment, as he felt a droplet of slime fall down the back of his neck, reminding him that it was all through his hair.

" Scourgify ," he cried out in desperation, pointing his wand specifically at his hair. But still, nothing worked, so he began to sulk.

His life was over, and he started to repeatedly bang his head on the table in frustration. "Nothing's working," he complained into the wood. "I can't get rid of this fucking slime, and I'm going to have oozy hair like Snape's forever."

"Pads," Remus finally chimed in, pity in his eyes. "That won't work on ectoplasm," he explained gently, extracting his wand from his pocket.

"Here, this one should work: Skurge ," Remus muttered, waving his wand over Sirius and grinning with satisfaction as the ectoplasm finally disintegrated.

"Don't worry about it, Moony," Sirius moped. "I'm doomed to have greasy hair forever!"

"It's gone, you overdramatic wanker," Peter huffed, shoving Sirius.

Sirius poked his head up a little from the cocoon of his arms. "Are you sure?" he asked tenderly, pulling a strand of hair into view.

"Yeah, you look as ugly as ever," James confirmed through a mouthful of food, so it sounded nothing like English.

"Still look better than you, Prongs. Your resemblance to a gargoyle is uncanny."

James was going to reply, but Remus beat him to the punch. "Don't talk with your mouth full, James. It's gross."

"Yeah, James, don't talk with your mouth full," Sirius parroted before promptly shoving food into his mouth. "It is a disgusting habit," he added - words obscured by a mouthful. "As a gentle-wizard, you should know it's an uncouth behaviour and below someone of your standing."

James was too engrossed in eating to be bothered with replying apparently, as he went on to ignore Sirius. He wasn't too bothered by that though; there was nothing that could come between James and food when he was hungry unless you were a broomstick or a certain redhead - he had learnt that those were the exceptions over the years.

"As expected, Professor Raven's not at the staff table," Peter noted, as he went on to muse. "Wonder what happened to him?"

"Not like him to miss out on the chance for free food, or booze." Sirius grinned as his eyes roamed over the table, spotting the empty spot that the Defence Professor would normally occupy. "The curse must be going strong from the looks," he added in observation.

Remus snorted. "Thank the Lord for that - bloody useless as a teacher, he was."

"I really thought the vodka would preserve him," Sirius mused.

James finally looked up from his plate. "They never last longer than a year, I've won that same bet for three years in a row, and I don't see it breaking for my final year." He stretched back in his chair. "We have some debts to collect from last year's losers it seems."

"Might I remind you gambling on school grounds is against the rules?" Lily said, looking over at James expectantly from her seat, where she'd apparently been eavesdropping the whole time.

"Yeah, what's your point, Evans?" Sirius asked, annoyed that she was butting in.

She raised an eyebrow. "Potter."

"Hm?" James paused on shovelling apple pie into his mouth.

"You aren't really going to let this lot talk about setting up a gambling syndicate while you sit right there?" Lily asked.

"Uh...right." James looked around helplessly at his mates before shrugging and gesturing to Lily. "You lot heard her, gambling bad. Don't do it."

"Yeah right," Sirius said, waving him off. "Now I was thinking–"

"That was pathetic, Potter," Lily snorted.

James furrowed his brows. "But, I just tried!"

"Yeah, if you call a piss poor effort trying," Lily countered sardonically. "Merlin, I cannot believe that I am stuck with you the whole year."

"No, no, no," James sputtered. "Look, I'll do it right this time."

Making sure that Lily's attention was on him, James turned to address his mates that were deeply engrossed in discussing the details of the gambling ring that they would be setting up. Remus and Peter were heatedly debating what the stakes would be, and Sirius was chiming in with what the different tiers of the betting pool should be.

"Oi, you lot," James called out.

They didn't react; they just kept talking.

"Oi!" James slammed his fist on the table. "You lot can't be talking about that shit or planning it. We are in our final year, and we need to have our shit together if we want to have time to study or even bloody play Quidditch. Pete, you were saying that you wanted help with your Charms work this year, yeah? I won't be doing that if you go through with this. Remus, I will tell McGee that you were the mastermind behind the whole thing if you guys get caught. Also, I won't be fucking covering for you! I will put you in detention myself, so knock it off, alright?"

Sirius boldly laughed in his face. "Come on, Prongs."

"Did I stutter?" James asked, not backing down.

"Merlin, Prongs, pull the stick out of your arse. We always do this."

James frowned and shook his head. "Not this year, mate. You were saying the other day you want to be treated like an adult but if you keep doing shit like this all the time how can anyone consider you one?"

Sirius looked like he had swallowed a lemon and clenched his hands into fists. Peter, seeing that James and Sirius were about to brawl in the middle of dinner, quickly interjected with his own logic. "Look, not agreeing with the stick in the mud here, but what is the point in setting up bets? We know they won't even last the year, right?"

Lily, still hovering around like a busybody, took the chance to jump in and share her opinion on the matter. "It is horrible that you are betting on harm befalling someone. Not to mention that gambling is against the rules. Also, you are taking advantage of the fact that the first years aren't going to know any better - and based off your previous years, you'll spend the money on alcohol and cigars that you'll then sell back to the younger years at ridiculous prices. It's illegal to resell contraband with those kinds of mark-ups, and to top it off, you're selling to minors!"

"First of all, Evans," Sirius said, mirroring Lily's condescending tone, "I'm charmed you pay that much attention to us, but how the hell would you know what is and isn't illegal? And you can get off your high and mighty Thestral, because even you have to admit it is bloody weird that in our whole time here-" Sirius made a wide sweep around his with his arms "-not one Defence Professor has lasted more than a year in a row." He propped his chin up on a hand and waited with bated breath for the red-head to spit out her response.

"She's been paying attention to us the whole time!" James said in a hushed whisper.

"Yeah, and being bloody mad at us for what we've been doing," Remus pointed out.

"She is beautiful when she's mad isn't she?" James mooned. "Her eyes sparkle like little emeralds, and she gets this cute little line going between her eyebrows."

Peter and Remus rolled their eyes at James, while Sirius mimed vomiting up his dinner. James was slow to come out of his Lily-infused daydream, but it slowly dawned on him just how bad he was drooling over her. Sirius knew that he was going to have so much fun teasing him about it later, but the git was so desperate it seemed to shift the mood of the conversation, and he saw that James was now looking around to find something to take the attention off himself, and he eventually spotted a prime target.

"Oi, Pete, stop wanking off under the table," James called across the table. "Plenty of time to do that later."

Sirius' eyes darted over to his mate and saw that his gaze had been locked down on something in his lap region and both his hands were under the table. Both things combining to make a very suspicious image.

Peter went redder than the house banner that floated above them. "M' not," he mumbled, averting his eyes from his lap.

"Then what are you doing?" James challenged.

Peter looked alarmed as Remus peered over into his lap, winking at Peter before turning back to the two other boys. "Leave him alone," Remus admonished, "he's just reading, something that you two wouldn't be familiar with the concept of."

"Remus, shh. Just leave it alone," Peter whispered.

"Oh, well then. What book is so fascinating that you're reading it at dinner instead of eating or talking to your mates, hm?" Sirius asked.

"Nothing! Leave it alone, you gits," Peter hissed, going to tuck the book away into his robes.

"Not so fast, mate. Sharing is caring," James protested, pulling out his wand and pointing it at Peter. " Accio Book ."

"No!" Peter cried, scrambling to try and grab the summoned book before it zoomed over into James' outstretched hand. But he was too late. He instead ended up plunging himself into a bowl of mashed potatoes - an unfortunate magical variant of food that beat you up if you didn't eat it fast enough. The downside of magical vegetables - delicious but deadly.

"What is it, Pads?" Sirius asked, leaning over James to get a look at the book.

James had turned it over to get a look at the title and had frozen up. Sirius too had gone still as he read the title. James was the first to crack, bursting out into giggles.

"Really, Peter, why are you reading this garbage?" he asked, through laughter. "Wizards are from Neptune, Witches are from Saturn . This book is written for witches, you know, right?"

Peter went even redder but still crossed his arms defensively and snapped back at James, "After seeing you with Lily, you could stand to give it a read as well."

"Look, mate, if you needed some help attracting the ladies you should have just come to me!" Sirius bragged through his laughter. "I am an expert after all."

"Not so sure about you being an expert Pads," Remus counted. "Given what happened with Marlene."

Remus pointed over to the Ravenclaw table to prove his point. Peter, James and Sirius followed his line of sight and spotted that Marlene was presently glaring at Sirius.

"Yeah, thanks, but no thanks mate," Peter said upon seeing the loathing in the blonde's eyes.

If looks could kill , Sirius thought to himself awkwardly, looking anywhere but at the venomous blonde. As his eyes wandered, he happened to see another blonde taking her seat at the teacher's table after apparently sneaking in late.

Sirius' jaw dropped in shock over what he saw. "What the fuck? James, look!" he insisted loudly, poking James in the side with his elbow.

James swatted his hands away. "Yeah, yeah, I saw Marlene," he mumbled, eyes darting over the plethora of puddings that had just appeared on the table.

"Look, you prick!" he demanded, smacking the back of his head.

"Bloody hell, Pads, would you relax already?" James asked before shoving a loaded spoonful of jelly and ice cream into his mouth.

"James," Sirius shouted in frustrated in his friend's ear.

Sighing and reluctantly tearing his eyes away from his bowl, James finally started to turn his head, mid chewing, in the direction Sirius was pointing madly at. "Merwn, I'm- pffftt. "

So it was for the second time that night that Sirius unwittingly became covered in ooze. This time the chunks were only pudding though, as James had sprayed the contents of his mouth on Sirius in shock over what he was seeing.

"Really?" Sirius growled, looking down at his robes and seeing white and brown chunks sliding down the fabric.

James hadn't noticed. He was too busy gawking like a Niffler that had spotted gold. "Sirius," he wheezed. "It's her. It's–it's that bird from the shop!"

"Yeah, I bloody well know. Why else do you think I pointed it out to you?" he grumbled while wiping the food off himself.

"What is she doing here?" James asked, still staring.

Sirius gave up on using napkins and whipped out his wand to perform a Cleaning Charm on himself, already getting sick of casting them.

"I don't know," Sirius answered James, without looking up. His attention had shifted to trying to clean off the excretions of James.

"Merlin, do you think she's here to kill us?" James whispered worriedly, leaning into Sirius.

Noticing the odd behaviour, Peter pinched James. "What are you two on about now?"

James not so subtly pointed up at the teacher's table. "That woman. That blonde bird…we've seen her before! In Knockturn Alley. She's bad news."

Remus finally pulled his head out of the book he had been reading with Peter. "What are you all looking at?" He paled when he saw what they were all fixated on. "Oh no, it's her," he muttered to himself.

Unfortunately for him, Sirius overhead him. So did James.

"What?" James and Sirius shouted, rounding on Remus.

Remus shrank back at the sudden attention and averted his eyes to the plate in front of him. "I-I saw her on the train, and she was in the compartment that I found."

"Why didn't you tell us sooner?" Sirius demanded.

"Because I don't tell you about every blonde I run into so that you can add them to your 'To Bone' list," Remus said.

"Well, it is a topic of news if you're talking to a girl, Remus," Peter argued.

"Says the one with the dating book," Remus bit back sarcastically.

Peter was geared up for the verbal spar but was shushed by Lily. "Shh, Dumbledore is about to make his speech."

"Oh, goodie." Sirius rolled his eyes, before pointedly looking at Remus. "Don't think we're done talking about that train trip, Moony."

He slowly broke eye contact as Dumbledore began his usual speech. "Welcome, welcome, students, teachers and all manner of wonderful creatures, to another year at Hogwarts. This year we must be vigilant in our choices. One act of kindness, one decision can make all the difference to another's life. With that said, the esteemed Professor Raven will not be joining us this year - he has gone on a pilgrimage to study with the Melange Monks, who have dedicated their lives to the art of mixing alcoholic beverages. But worry not, for we have an excellent new teacher who will be your guide on how to defend yourselves.

"Professor Ophelia Sinclair, our new Defence Against the Dark Arts Instructor. Would you like to introduce yourself to the students, Professor?"

Looking nervous, which Sirius was sure was an act, she stood up and waved awkwardly to the students below. "Good evening everyone, I'm Professor Sinclair. I look forward to meeting you all in class," she said in a surprisingly calm voice before she stiffly sat back down and nodded to Dumbledore to continue with his speech.

"She sounds nice," Peter commented off-handedly.

Sirius whipped his head around, neck cracking at the sudden movement, to face his sandy-haired friend, unable to believe his ears. "Are you kidding me?"

Peter looked startled, but Sirius continued to rant. "She isn't nice mate, she is bad news!"

"Yeah, this is all an act," James said, gesturing up to the witch with his fork. "Sirius and I both saw what she got up to in Knockturn Alley!"

Peter rolled his eyes before cheekily asking, "Did you stalk her when she went shopping at Laurel's Lacey Lovelies?"

"Yeah, James, were you shopping for something in there for yourself?" Sirius asked, wiggling his eyebrows.

James looking awkward started to chug his drink, so Remus slyly added in, "Nah, you were probably looking for something to get Lily."

Pumpkin juice came streaming out of James' nose. Remus grinned as he dodged the spraying, but Sirius got caught in the liquid crossfire - again.

"Will you lot shut up?" Lily fired down the table at them. "The sorting ceremony is about to start."

Sirius couldn't help but notice she was blushing slightly as she told them off. When she caught Sirius' gaze lingering she poked out her tongue and turned her attention back to the front of the hall.

Dumbledore took his seat, and the heavy wooden doors swung open, revealing McGee carrying the wooden stool Sirius had sat on all those years ago. Atop it was the Sorting Hat that every student wore. The Hat that had started him on the path to his friends and happiness, for the first time in his life.

He spent most of the ceremony glaring at this Professor Sinclair, not at all impressed that she was here at Hogwarts. Now and then his attention drifted over to the line of new students that slowly dwindled in number. The last five looked like they were about to shit themselves.

I never looked that scared. Did I? Sirius wondered to himself as the parade of first years eventually finished as they had all found their seats amongst their new houses and Dumbledore had risen to his feet once more and began to speak again.

"Now, before we start dessert, welcome, I say to the witches and wizards among us tonight. Also, just some termly reminders that the Forbidden Forest is as the name suggests, off-limits to students, that skinny dipping in the lake is frowned upon, and duelling in the corridor is not allowed.

"Ah, I almost forgot one last set of introductions. Our Head Boy this year is James Potter, and Head Girl is Lily Evans. With that all out of the way, let us enjoy these sweets!"

Dumbledore sat down and proceeded to tuck into a tart, and slowly, conversation amongst the house tables resumed. Sirius took this as a chance to keep interrogating Remus.

"Alright. Spill about that train ride."

Lily rose to her feet and purposefully glared at James and jerked her chin in the direction of the teacher's table. He looked back owlishly for a few seconds until her meaning appeared to sink in.

"You'll have to fill me in later, Pads, I have to go and do the rounds with Lily," James said with more than a little excitement in his voice.

"Not much happened, Pads. Why do you care so much?"

"Cause that bird is a Dark witch."

Remus shook his head. "You and your grudges, Sirius."

Sirius sighed. "You don't get it, Moony. I grew up around Dark magic and I can tell when someone is into that dark stuff." He pointed up to the teacher's table. "This witch especially."

Remus again didn't look so convinced, but Sirius didn't care. "You think I'm crazy, Moony, but I'm telling you she's trouble. So I'm going to keep an eye on her throughout the year, and come our first lesson? I'll make sure to find out what side she is really on."


	9. NEWTS: Nuanced Notations - Human Edition

**Still not beta'd but I did a read through and fixed somethings up. If you spot anything else, please do let me know :)**

 **Chapter Nine**

 _NEWTS: Nuanced Notations - Human Edition_

Hermione's frown turned into a grimace of pain when she faintly heard a student yelling out, "Why is it pink?" followed by a loud crash that made her wince. Both sounds came from the other side of her office door.

The reverberation of the crash travelled through the door and shook the wood that she had her back pushed up against. She felt the vibration travel up her spine and course through her body causing her head to spin. Which didn't help her with her efforts to try and stop shaking. As it was, she was already struggling to keep herself together. She was borderline hyperventilating to cap it off.

Really, it was ridiculous that she was this nervous, after all, it wasn't the first class she had to teach or anything. She had managed to muddle her way through the first, second and fifth year classes reasonably well, or so she had thought. But the first period after lunch on a Thursday was what she had been dreading all week.

She had been up all night preparing herself for this class, telling herself over and over again that it wouldn't be any different from tutoring Ron or Harry in the library, or even helping Harry teach a D.A meet up. All she'd managed to do was psyche herself out with the worst-case scenarios: Sirius would recognise her from the library, or they would somehow uncover she was from the future, or she could slip up and call James Harry instead. When she'd first seen him at the feast it had been a punch to the heart to see how similar they were in looks.

The nervous tension had eventually caused a breakout of hives along her arms. The angry red welts were frustratingly itchy and only made her anxiety worse. All in all, they were the last thing she'd needed to be worried about as she was already going mental, trying to figure out what she should wear to the class. Because there were just so many things she needed to take into consideration. Like making sure her scar was covered up, that her hair wasn't a mess, that her eyes weren't glassy from crying, that her cheeks had some colour to them so that she wasn't mistaken to be another ghostly Professor.

Getting her eyes to stop looking so hollow and red was the real challenge she had a problem with solving. She couldn't do any more Cheering Charms for the day and she was still slowly working through the sad realisation that she was on her own, so the tears were always there, ready to spill at a moments notice. It was an inescapable fact that haunted her in the early hours of the morning when she woke up from her usual myriad of nightmares.

Hermione was broken out of her trance by hearing a student call out, "Where the hell is the Professor? If they aren't here in five minutes, can we skip?"

"Nah, give it another half an hour," came another student's muffled voice. "Professor Raven didn't show up till half an hour late most of the time. Even then he would spend the other half of the lesson asleep or yelling at us in Russian or whatever it was."

The student's words sunk in and she felt her blood run cold with panic. She was running late to the class that she desperately needed to be making a good impression: the seventh year Gryffindor and Slytherin shared class. The class that would shape the future and the time she'd come from. Meaning she had to try and have some sort of an impact on these students—especially if she had any hopes of changing the future.

Another loud crash sounded off, and it was much closer this time and sounded like it might be the dragon skeleton that dangled from the ceiling of the classroom. If that thing had fallen there was a chance that it may have crushed the students to death. Which meant that she didn't have to go out. No students alive, no one to teach. Sound logic, if you asked her.

Her hopes were dashed as a feminine young voice floated through the wood. "Are you sure that we had a lesson today? Is this the right, classroom?"

"Yeah, we're in the bloody right classroom," a husky baritone scoffed at the girl. "This is where they have been holding Defence Against the Dark Arts since like...forever. Since Dumbledore was student probably! And you've been in this classroom since your first year, so of course you know it's the right classroom, you twit."

"Well, I saw Professor Sinclair at lunch, so she's at school today...unless she's sick or forgot, like Professor Raven did…" the female student trailed off and the racket of chatter swelled up once more, many opinions and bits of speculation travelling to her ears and driving her anxiety up another notch.

"Has anyone thought of checking if she is in her office?" came the rumble of a low male voice, it was familiar, but Hermione couldn't quite tell who it belonged to.

Her eyes widened in horror, as she heard the shuffling of the wooden seats, and the scraping of a chair been pushed back, which meant that a student had gotten up. Next came the scuffing of shoes against sandstone stairs that led up to her office, which meant someone was approaching her hide out.

Hermione jumped as a knock came at the door.

"Oh no," she breathed, eyes darting wilding around her office. This was bad, very bad. She couldn't have one of them in here, or close to her office at all really, not at the moment, not with all of her research spread out all over the place.

"Professor? Are you in there?" It was the female voice again, and it too was starting to ring a bell of familiarity for her. From a half distant memory, or maybe a dream, but that wasn't possible. "Are you alright? Are you stuck in your chair? Professor Raven did that once, we can help you get out if you want."

Shuttering the crazy thoughts that were going to trigger another episode or descent into the pit of panic, Hermione pulled on the door handle and let the wooden shield swing open. A young petite pixish girl with a shock of black hair stood on the other side.

"Yes," Hermione answered. "I'm here. Thank you for coming to get me. I appear to have gotten caught up in my readings. My apologies."

She stepped out the door, making sure to block off as much of the gap and view of her office from the student as she could, and a few others it appeared as well, as she caught a few nosey students leaning forward over their desks in the hope of catching a glimpse of what lay inside.

Door securely shut behind her, Hermione shooed the student down the stairs and followed after her. The student quietly took a seat in the middle row of desks and Hermione stopped at the front of the classroom.

She was absolutely petrified and regretting her decision to partake in this crazy scheme. Not that she'd had much choice, but braving it out in the world on her own was starting to look like the better option ccompared to having Dumbledore hovering around her and teaching bratty teenagers. Because she knew that she wasn't cut out to be a teacher.

The self-doubt went on and on, playing on a loop in her mind for a good thirty seconds, while the other half of her brain was trying to figure out what her first move should be. It was difficult to think of anything at all really, with twenty pairs of eyes watching her intently, waiting to see what she would do, or say. It left her shaking in her proverbial boots.

This was not the time to be showing hesitation or fear. Her own time as a student had taught her that the class clowns or anyone with a penchant for mischief, would have a talent for sensing any kind of weakness in new Professors and exploiting for their own means.

Sighing internally, it was now or never. Picking up her wand, she set up about charming the chalk to write out her name, but stopped, as it was halfway through writing her name, when a memory of a very similar introduction sprang to mind. Letting the chalk fall away, Hermione charmed an eraser to remove the words. She adamantly refused to have anything in common with that sham of a witch.

Instead, she picked up the chalk and wrote out her name by hand. She knew the students must think her crazy for doing this, but she couldn't bring herself to care. Her utmost hatred for Umbridge overrode any reservations or concerns that she had.

Just as she rounded off the last letter, she took the plunge and introduced herself. "My name is Ophelia Sinclair and I am your new Defence Against the Dark Arts Professor." She was quite proud of how confident she'd sounded and decided to keep going, while the going was good.

Dusting off her hands, she spun around to stare down the class. "You can call me Professor Sinclair or Miss Sinclair, I don't mind which one. Just for the love of Merlin, don't call me Mrs. or we will be having words."

It was dead silent. Not even a cough or sniffle. It was nauseating–not having any kind of reaction from them. The silence was broken by one of the clowns she'd been worrying about, earlier. They called down from the back of the classroom, hands cupped around their mouth to amplify their voice. "And you can call me God!"

The proclamation was met with a supporting chorus of hyena-like laughter. She scowled and fought to keep her eyes trained on the centre of the room and to not quickly sneak a look over at the source of the disturbance.

She knew it was probably one of the Marauders. Dipping their toes into the water and trying to test her and find out her weak spots. Like a niffler scenting gold, they would dig and dig until they found it. This is why she had to be resolute and stand firm. She wouldn't let it get to her, she couldn't. 'Because if you give them attention, it will validate their behaviour, and encourage further shenanigans and behavioural issues in the future' she mentally recites to herself , word for word for she'd read in one of the teaching guides.

Straightening up and pushing her shoulders back, she decided to kick things into gear and do some investigating as to find out what she was dealing with.

Pacing up the centre row of desks, Hermione, took a deep breath, took a few seconds to review the lesson plan in her head, before asking the question she was dreading.

"Okay, who can tell me what you covered last year? I only ask as Professor Raven doesn't appear to have left any notes of what syllabus was and wasn't covered." She rolled her eyes before muttering to herself, "Legible ones anyway." In truth, the notes she had found were not even in English nor did they have anything to do with the class, rather they were ingridients needed for brewing the perfect Hangover Cure potion.

The students glanced at each other before murmuring, as if best deciding what to say. Slowly the chatter of the students transformed into an awkward silence. The only sound she could make out was that of her own breathing.

"Anybody want to be brave and start off first?" she suggested, hopefully, the silence killing her precious won confidence by the second.

"Ah well..." the black haired girl that had knocked on her office door spoke up but seemed to lose her nerve and clapped her mouth shut.

"Yes?" Hermione asked, smiling at her encouragingly and trying to hold back her excitement. Finally, she'd get some answers, because really there was nothing promising in the notes and she'd been starting to worry.

The girl looked down at her desk before looking up at Hermione and mumbling, "Professor Raven did teach us a few things."

"Such as?" Hermione waved her hand for her to go one, hoping for a more elaborate explanation.

The black haired girl rubbed the back of her neck. "Um, he tried to convince us that vodka would repel werewolves."

Hermione blinked and took a few seconds to absorb what the girl had said. "What?"

"Vodka can repel werewolves if you offer it to them in a silver dish on a crescent moon?" the girl said again, sounding very unsure, but it seemed to have done the trick as a floodgate was opened and the other students rushed in to share their own answers.

"He also told us that vampires like garlic and wine, and we should take them out to dinner before we kill them."

"No! That was for Banshees! He told us that vampires could only bite you at twilight."

"You shouldn't try and have sex with a cursed object either. He was pretty insistent on that."

"We also learnt that you shouldn't tickle giants. You can get trampled."

Hermione didn't know what to say. "Uh…" she trailed off, unsure of how to respond to what she was hearing.

How could anyone like that have been allowed to be a Defence Professor? What had Dumbledore been drinking? Probably some of the previous Professor's vodka from the sound of it.

"Have you ever fought any giants or werewolves, Professor?"

"Merlin, yeah, that would be awesome. Professor Raven said that he dated a werewolf once, but he stopped because he couldn't handle the shedding or coughing up hairballs."

That last admission made Hermione cough and flush a deep crimson. Clearing her throat, she pulled on the last question that had been asked. "I have fought a fully shifted werewolf and a troll," she admitted reluctantly, unable to help herself as she saw all of their keen faces looking upon her expectantly. "Really not as great as it sounds," she made sure to tack on at the end.

She couldn't also help but notice that Remus Lupin, tucked away at the back of the classroom with the Marauders had shifted uneasily in his seat at her mention of werewolves. A pang of guilt gnawed at her stomach. This was not a good start to trying to win the boys over, by any means, she knew that they were extremely protective of Remus and any mention of his furry little problem would not paint her in a favourable light.

A student who had managed to close their gaping mouth, exclaimed, "Whoa, really?"

"Yes." She cleared her throat once more. "Now, I have an understanding of what you learnt last year, I can tell you all that your first test won't be for a few weeks yet. As I think it would be an idea for us to just review some basics."

Hopefully, in that time she would be able to have them forget everything the previous buffoon had taught them and potentially drill some actual real lessons into their head.

"Professor Raven didn't give us any exams or quizzes either! Why are you?" a Hufflepuff, whose name she wasn't sure of, Norman maybe, protested. "He just passed us if we didn't tell anybody about him drinking in class."

"Yeah," a mousey looking Gryffindor yelled in agreement. "Why should we have to take any tests this year? It isn't fair."

"And what is your name?" Hermione asked, zeroing in on the Gryffindor student.

"Ah, Peter," the boy mumbled.

Hermione felt her hackles starting to rise. This teenager would become the reason for so much pain and suffering in the future. But this was her chance now to change that and she couldn't be giving in to her urge to curse him into oblivion. Yet, anyway.

"Well, Peter, you have just earnt detention for speaking out of turn and I can tell you now that this year things are going to be very different."

"That's not fair!" James called out.

"Life isn't fair, Mr. Potter, which is why you will be doing the quizzes and tests that I assign to you. Because the world is a dangerous place out there and you need to be ready for it."

There were various shouts of protest from different points all over the classroom. The loudest one was Sirius Black, of course. "How would you know what the real world is like? You don't look any older than us!"

"Mr. Black, last warning, either you be quiet or I will make you."

"What are you going to do, curse me? Bet that's how you got this job."

Patience , she cautioned herself, desperately trying not to take her anger out on the idiot boy.

"I also expect you all to be achieving an E or higher in my class."

"That's rubbish! You can't just come in here and expect that sort of shit."

"Well, I don't expect that much out of you Sirius but I can always hope for the best," she replied offhandedly. She honestly was trying to not let him get to her, but Merlin he was pushing her patience.

"You are mental if—"

She flicked her wand at Sirius who was muted before he could finish uttering the rest of his words. He looked around in a panic, pleading for some explanation as to why he could no longer speak.

She was unable to help a smile from stretching across her lips at the hapless look on the boy's face. Turning her focus back to the class, she saw a lot of confused looks and a few wary ones been cast in her direction. She frowned at the confused ones. They had to have known what spell she'd just cast, for Morgana's sake it was a Second-Year spell the last time she'd checked.

"Can anybody tell me spell I just cast?" she asked, fishing for a reason as to why the students were looking so perplexed.

She scanned the room. No hands were raised. In fact, most of the students were blank or contorted into looks of confusion.

Merlin, it wasn't possible for them to have made it this long at Hogwarts without knowing the spell. But the longer she waited, the greater the pit of dread grew in her stomach.

"Anybody?" she asked again, a note of desperation slipping into her voice.

She tried not to let her relief show too much as a red-haired girl sitting in the front row of desks, slowly raised her hand. Hermione's broke out into a beaming smile.

Upon first glance, Hermione saw that the girl was a Gryffindor, and she had also noticed that she hadn't groaned along with the rest of the students when she mentioned she would be giving them regular tests.

Further observation of the student had her taking in shocking red hair, brighter than the standard Weasley red. Hermione's smile faltered as she made eye contact with a pair of pickle green eyes—Harry's eyes.

The eye contact left her rattled and shaking. The green depths made her want to cry. But she couldn't allow herself to have a break down in the middle of this class.

Hermione cleared her throat before pointing at the girl. "Yes, glad to see someone was paying attention. Your name?"

She already knew what the girl's name was. But she still wanted to hear it.

"Lily Evans, Professor," she replied confidently and her voice shook Hermione to her core. The tone was so similar to her best friend she could potentially never see again.

Feeling her mind spinning out of control again, Hermione broke eye contact and spun on her heel to pace back to the front of the room. With her back to the classroom, facing the front windows, Hermione's raised her voice as she asked. "And would you care to tell me, Miss Evans, what spell I used?"

" Silencio ?" Lily hesitantly answered, before tilting her head and narrowing her eyes at Hermione. "But, you didn't say anything when you did? How did you do that?"

Hermione blinked and waited. Her eyes darted around the class, examining their faces, but none of them were laughing or cracking up that she had fallen for their joke. But surely they must have been taught non-verbal casting in their sixth year.

The continued silence had her worrying that perhaps not. Merlin, if they couldn't cast a spell without out having to say the incantation out loud it was a damned miracle that they'd managed to survive through the holidays, given the current turmoil that the Wizarding World was in.

She swallowed back her retort and focused on Lily. "Do you not know about non-verbal casting?"

Lily shook her head slowly and opened her mouth, no doubt probably about to ask Hermione what that was. Hermione held her hand up to stop her and the redhead promptly clamped her jaw shut. But eyed Hermione darkly, clearly wanting to know what was going on.

Clearing her throat, Hermione raised her chin and voice to throw her question out into the void, already dreading the answers she was going to receive. "Question for the whole class." She paused, before continuing to finally ask, "Can anybody cast non-verbally?"

A few students were shaking their head and others looked at her like she'd sprouted tentacles. This really wasn't good. She looked at Lily, and a few of the other students who were at the front, but none of them appeared to have any idea of what she was on about.

Pinching the bridge of her nose, Hermione tried to hold onto the remaining bits of her composure. "Surely, you would've been taught that last year. It's standard for sixth years to learn it."

More blank looks were all that she was met with, along with Lily vigorously shaking her head.

"Oh Merlin," she whispered to herself in horror.

She tried not to react when she heard a snarky remark coming from the back of the classroom. "Looks like she could do with some vodka." It was followed by a wave of laughter.

Taking a shaky breath, she addressed the class as a whole again. "Okay, since you've got no clue about what I'm on about, would anyone like to hesitate a guess as to how you would cast non-verbal spells?"

It was certainly a shock when Snape answered her question. Not evening bothering to raise his hand, he shared his guess with the class, "To be able to cast without needing to speak the incantation out loud."

Hermione beamed at him and nodded. "That's correct! Well done, Mr….?"

"Severus Snape," he supplied, looking pale as ever.

Taking the chance to observe him, she noted that he hadn't quite grown into his nose, the poor boy, but he didn't look as haunted. No, well Lily is still alive , she reminded herself.

"Well, Mr. Snape, you are quite right. Ten points to Slytherin."

She didn't even finish saying the serpentine house' name when boos and hisses sounded off from the scarlet and golden toting members of the classroom. Hermione rounded on them, hands on her hips and sent the fiercest glare that she could muster their way.

"If there is one thing I will not tolerate it is prejudice. I will not have it in my classroom. Mr. Snape has provided the correct information and has thusly been rewarded. If someone from Hufflepuff or Ravenclaw or even Gryffindor had done so then I would have awarded them the same amount of points. So let me clear, from here on out, if I catch wind of any bullying or baiting based on someone's house, there will be hell to pay."

Of course, one of the Marauders would have to object to her words. "It's still not fair! He's half-blood, of course, he's going to know more than a muggle born."

Hermione couldn't tell which one had said it though, because she couldn't hear anything over the thrumming of blood in her ears and her heavy breaths. They had to bring up blood status...a topic that never failed to make her scar itch and feel like it was being freshly carved into her skin all over again.

She was pulled from the start of a flashback when Lily makes a squawk of indignation. "You think a muggle born can't know as much any other witch or wizard, Potter?"

Well, that solved the mystery of which idiot had mouthed off. "No, that's not what I meant, Lily, I swear! I just mean that he might have an unfair advantage." And who was apparently still putting a foot in their mouth.

Hermione shook her head. Father like son . She glanced over to see that Lily's face was going a shade a darker than her hair. She could hear the steam pouring out of her ears. Before she could interject and get the class back on track, the biggest pain in her arse, just had to pipe up.

"Because we know he doesn't spend extra time in the shower washing his hair," Sirius snarked and cackled at his own joke.

Hermione arched an eyebrow. That was appalling if that was the best that he could come up with, but it did give her the chance to interject and shut the drama down before it escalated into a full-fledged feud. "Blood status shouldn't stop anyone from being able to open a book and read about magic or further their education, with that said, it's time we got you all learning something, so if you can turn your attention to the board, we'll get started."

Hermione turned to approach the board, ready to write down some notes on what she had planned but stopped short as she heard a soft, "yeah, but…" come from the back of the classroom. She didn't need to turn around to figure out who'd spoken.

Raising her wand, curling script started to spread across the board, chalk her choice of ink. Delicate diagrams unfurled like flowers and dot points formed in wonderfully straight lines. A good set of notes always did make her happy, and it gave the strength to deal with Sirius. Without turning around, she shouted, "If you want to argue the point further Mr. Black then you are most welcome to do so in detention or I can start taking points if you prefer?"

Satisfied with her writing, she turned to notice that while Sirius had snapped his mouth shut, he was glaring at her. His grey eyes full of loathing. Undoubtedly planning how he and his friends would be getting even with her. Pranks ahoy, she thought sardonically to herself.

"With that sorted, if it's alright with you, we'll move onto along with the lesson, hm?"

No objections. As she opened her mouth to finally start with her lesson a pale hand shot up, the light catching on the glittery blue polish at the tip of the fingers. Hermione had to hold back a smile. So that's what that felt like.

"Miss Evans?"

"Will you be teaching us how to cast non-verbally? Or can you tell us more about it? Is it a common ability to be able to do so? Why do you think they haven't taught it to us yet?"

Hermione chuckled. "Yes, Miss Evans. We will learn about it, but I have something different planned for today."

She looked around the class, enjoying the moment of blissful silence before proceeding to unveil what she was going to be teaching them about. "Dark objects. What do you know about them?"

"They're dark," none other than Sirius Black had to quip again.

She let out a heavy sigh and looked at the ceiling, studying the intricate rib structure of the dragon skeleton and drawing deep for strength or patience, a bit of both probably.

Pulling her eyes back down, she kept her face carefully blank, trying not to let her impatience show. "Well done, Mr. Black." She found herself starting to clap, unable to have her own smart alec response. Being friends with Harry, had been so bad for her. "Your powers of observation are truly amazing."

It was glorious to see his taken aback expression. Obviously, it wasn't often that Professors bothered to go head to head with Sirius Black or even bothered with sassing him back. Good, about time he got a taste of his own medicine.

With Sirius seemingly put in his place, after her retort, Hermione was finally, thank Merlin, able to carry on with her planned lesson. She brought out a rather gothic mirror. Gargoyles and runes were carved up its side and into the ebony wood frame. It was gorgeous, no doubt there, but it had such a dark tone to it that she hadn't been able resist picking it up to use for a class demonstration. It was one of the final things she'd ended up purchasing from Borgin & Burkes.

Placing the mirror down so that it was propped up against her desk, she pulls the silver sheet off it and pauses to watch the dust settle. She admitted to herself that maybe she was being a bit over dramatic with the unveiling, but she really needed to make an impression on these kids.

Spinning around so that she was staring down the class, studiously annoying the band of idiots in the background, she asked them, "Anyone want to hesitate a guess as to what this is?" She waved her hand towards the mirror, watching the reflective surface glimmer in the light, but oddly, not display her hand.

"A mirror!"

"Glass!"

"Looking glass?"

Came the calls of students across the room and each answer was right, but not quite. It honestly hurt her, that they weren't able to guess what was on display. The saviour was none other than Snape again.

"How the tables have turned," she muttered to herself before pointing at Snape. "Mr. Snape, again, please do enlighten us."

Before the poor lad had a chance to share his wisdom, James Potter went to open his big mouth again, to share his own thoughts. Seeing it coming a mile off, Hermione shot another Silencio in his direction and smiled darkly as she saw his banging against the desk at shock of his voice being gone.

Several heads turned to look at the commotion that James was causing but Hermione kept her gaze fixed on Snape, refusing to indulge petulance over actual willingness to try. "Go on," she encouraged.

"Er, it's a cursed object. It doesn't behave like a normal mirror," he mumbled, looking intently at the mirror as if trying to decipher it and all its secrets. Hermione wasn't surprised by his interest, she knew that he'd try to get her job right out of school but Dumbledore had turned him down, the numbskull that he was.

Internally rolling her eyes, she nodded at Snape and returned her gaze to the class. "It is a cursed object. This one has a special sort of curse. If you meet the eyes of your reflection is when it actually takes hold. You are stunned in a sense, unable to move or think. Slowly withering away…" She purposefully let her voice grow more sincere towards the end the sentence and was rewarded for her theatrics by several looks of horror.

"Yeah, right!"

Hermione inhaled sharply through her nose. She was this close to cursing Sirius' hair to fall out. Really she was. How could a teenager this obnoxious have any potential to grow into one of the amazing men she'd ever known? She really didn't bloody know.

Time to up the stakes then, or try and get him to learn something at the very least. "Do tell us how you would break away your gaze from this mirror, Mr. Black?"

Sirius chucked his feet up on his desk and sent her a smug look. "Look at something better than the mirror, me." He cackled and fist bumped James.

Unphased Hermione, wondered up rows of desks, walking slowly and staring Sirius down. With each step that she grew closer, she saw that he looked less and less certain. Soon, she was standing beside his desk. "But how would you break the curse if one of your friends looked in the mirror?" she asked him simply, crossing her arms and waiting for him to answer.

"I would smash it," he spat back, full of confidence, crossing his arms over his own chest. His hair hung in front of his eyes and his eyes shone with such determination that Hermione could see why girls swooned, but such arrogance was repulsive to her and made her want to challenge it...to bring him down a peg, which is exactly what she did.

"Wrong," she replied to him, her tone flat.

He narrowed his eyes at her and furrowed his brows. "How? It's destroying the mirror, which should break the enchantment!"

"The glass may not be the part that's enchanted, did you give that any thought?"

That seemed to be the wrong thing to say as Sirius. "I don't bloody know, then, alright. There I said it! Do you know?" he snapped back.

"I do know and if yourself and your posse were quiet for five minutes I would be happy to let you know."

"We aren't a posse," Peter bit back.

Hermione sighed. She couldn't deal with them anymore. She was done. "Boys, this is your final year. If you want to repeat it, by all means, go ahead, otherwise pipe down—"

"Alright, I'll repeat myself, I think this is bullshit," Sirius butted in. "When are we ever going to need about a bloody dark mirror? I already know I'm the prettiest and we all know the best way to break the curse on the thing it is to smash it…right?" He looked around the classroom, searching for support from his peers.

He was only met with scowls and grunts of annoyance. Good to know she wasn't the only one getting fed up with the interruptions then. Because Hermione was past the point of exasperated by now. Really, how could the not be taking this seriously? They know what was out there, who was out there and what danger the world was in…but they were acting worse than a bunch of first years.

Taking the chance, Hermione picked off from where she'd left off earlier. "As I was saying, this is your final year of school, Mr. Black. This is your last chance to learn what you need and practice it, knowing you'll be alive to see another day. Out there-" she points out the window "-there's no second chance or tomorrow if a curse hits you or if you starve to death due to a cursed object making you immobile. Or if you get savaged by a troll, pulled to the bottom of a lake by an Infernei, trampled by a hippogriff, or don't know the counter curse for a spell. But if you don't care about yourself do take a minute to think about your friends. What if they get targeted and you don't know how to save them?"

Sirius did a very good impression of a goldfish just then, his mouth opening and closing. She could see that he was trying to think of something witty to say, but honestly, she didn't care so walked back to the front of the class and solemnly promised herself that from here on out she would be ignoring him for the rest of the class or putting a Silencio on him each lesson.

Which did remind her..."I suppose this is good a time as any to bring this up. I plan to start a Duelling Club for students. If there is enough interest we will start holding meets this week."

Noticing that not many of the pupils looked convinced, she decided to sweeten the pot. "First thing I will be teaching is non-verbal casting. It's non-compulsory but it is there on offer, for those that would like to extend their education."

That certainly got a few of them to perk up. Lily especially, who looked to be practically vibrating with excitement and Hermione couldn't help but get a little excited herself at the prospect to be teaching her. Harry's mother. The witch who was smart enough to outsmart Voldemort. She sent Lily a wink and drew her eyes across the classroom, taking in her class.

There was a chance that she could have an impact on all of them. She just needed to get a wrangle on their..exuberance, that was the politest way she could put it. "Alright, alright, settle down," she called out to them, wanting to move on with the rest of the lesson.

Which she did. It flew by even quicker than she could imagine. She peeked at the clock on the wall and was shocked to see that she had less than to minute left until the end of the period. Realising that she'd forgotten one crucial thing, she made sure to squeeze in one final announcement to the class."The suggested reading material for this class is quite a decent list, but I suggest that this week you all check out NEWTS: Nuanced Notations from the library or put in an owl order."

There came a few grumbles about there been reading involved, but she still she smiled gently as she saw quills moving to jot down the words. Her smile dropped when she snuck a peek at a students work and saw the word NEWT.

The memory of her mix up came to kind so she made sure to share her wisdom so there wouldn't be any repeats. "Please, please make sure that you get the human edition, not the reptile one - otherwise you will be reading about how to hatch eggs rather than casting spells," she told the class just as the bell rang.

To say she was relieved they all shuffled out would be an understatement. However, she still had another four classes to teach so there would be no reprieve for her just yet. But at least the hardest one was down for the count and the rest of the day would be smooth sailing. Or she'd hoped it would.

The universe did love to prove her wrong.


	10. Figuring out French: Guide Des Débutants

Beta: Drwatsonn

Alpha: Bahowle

* * *

 **Chapter Ten**

 _Figuring out French: Guide Des Débutants_

Her hair looks like a bloody bird's nest and her teeth are huge, as well! -S

A Banshee with a sore throat would sound better than her! -JP

Come on, she's not that bad. -R

Mate, I would rather fuck Dumbledore, marry Snape and kill her. -P

I'd rather a goblin blow me off than have to kiss her. -S

James snorted at the latest addition to the scrap piece of parchment that the Marauders had been passing around.

They'd had to resort to such tactics since Professor Sinclair had decided to be clever and split the group up. The three Tripping Jinxes that Sirius and James had aimed at her as she paced up and down the classroom may have also contributed to it.

Being the typical new teacher, Sinclair foolishly thought she could tame the boys and get them to behave if she made them sit in four opposite corners of the classroom. Ha. As if. Nobody (McGonagall excluded) was ever going to tame the Marauders.

Being separated from his mates led to James being bored out of his brain and setting up the note. Somehow Professor Sinclair had made one of the most exciting subjects more boring than a History of Magic class.

The crazy bird was droning on and on about stuff they'd learned years ago, saying that she wanted to give them a refresher course before they moved on to more advanced stuff. James thought it was a load of bollocks and she was just stalling. Given how badly the last lesson went, she probably just didn't have anything else planned.

Turning his attention back to the note, it took James a few seconds to decipher the last lot of scribbles to be tacked on. It didn't take him too much longer, though; being a seasoned translator of his best mate's scribbles, James chuckled quietly under his breath before he raised his eyes and met Sirius's amused gaze. A smirk danced at the edge of his friend's mouth and he was unable to hold back his own cheeky grin to match.

He shook his head as he swung his gaze back down to the paper to re-read what Sirius had said. Sometimes he swore that—

"Something you want to share with the class, Mr Potter?"

James's stomach dropped as he slowly raised his eyes and met the honey-brown glare of Professor Sinclair. He opened and closed his mouth a few times as he tried to think of an excuse. All he could think about though was how many detentions he would get for the contents of the note and that he would probably lose his Head Boy badge. Either option was not desirable and would only serve to put him way behind in Operation: Woo Lily.

Merlin, not to mention what Lily would do to him if she found out. Her feminist rants and passion for defending other women was something he was well acquainted with.

"Well?" Professor Sinclair prompted, hands on her hip.

He licked his lips as he scrambled to think of something. Merlin, he fucking hated having to lie on the spot. It wasn't his forte. No, his strengths lay in weaving elaborate and complex stories, that required remembering details. He was also shit at bluffing in cards and he got a nervous tick under his eye when he tried to fib…

He felt his eye started to pulse and he rushed up to cover it with his hand. Shit. Fuck. Merlin, what am I meant to say?

"Mr Potter?" she asked again, voice holding a suspicious edge.

Bollocks. Putting on his best smile, the one that showed off his dimples and made him look really cute, according to Sirius, James carefully concealed the note with the palm of his hand as he sweetly replied, "No, nothing at all, Professor."

Did he sound breathy? Merlin, his voice went up at the end, a sure sign of deceit. He was done for. Good-bye, Head Boy privilege, private door room and power to dock points from Slytherins. It'd been nice while it lasted.

He waited for the shouting to start, but luck was on his side today because she bought it. Or he thought so. All she really did was hum, her gaze lingering on him for a few more seconds before she turned to a student and fired off a question at them about whatever she'd been babbling on about.

Making sure that her back was completely turned, James slumped forward onto his desk with relief, using the movement as a cover to bring the note back out. It felt like he'd lost twenty years off his life at that moment, but what was life without a little bit of danger and risk?

He reached out and grabbed his quill and dipped it into the ink pot. He held it posed, ready to add in his own commentary. It was tricky, trying to think of something to add after the last comment—it was so good. After a few seconds, he thought of something brilliant and started to write out new lines of commentary: It's a wonder that she got the job. She wouldn't be able to tell a hippogriff head from its damned arse.

Setting his quill down, he folded the paper back up into a neat little square, something of Remus' design, and sealed it with a self-made Sticking Charm. Placing the paper on the desk, he rolled his wand into it and muttered a kick Animation Charm under his breath and the paper took off.

James had to fight back a massive grin as he watched the paper fly over to the other side of the classroom. It had the grace of a butterfly and speed of a racing broom, as its gentle flaps carried it across the room to land on Sirius' desk.

Sirius snapped up the parchment before Sinclair spun around and saw it. James let go of the breath he was holding and made sure to be steadfast with staring at the front of the classroom, eyes fixed on the loopy cursive that covered the blackboard.

If he looked at Sirius, the jig would be up. The sound of wood scraping was all the confirmation that he needed to hear that his last response got the tick of approval. A quick system they had invented to let one another know if they were laughing. He wasn't the only one to notice though.

"Mr Black," came the ever-annoying voice of Professor Sinclair. "Is there a troll under your desk or something else we should be worried about?"

James craned his neck to see that Sirius was now facing the scrutiny of the banshee, and he did it with ease, lies rolling off his tongue like honey: "Not at all, Miss. Just got the jitters. Sitting still for so long, you know?"

Sinclair sniffed at the excuse and moved on, believing Sirius, like everyone always did.

Still on high alert at possibly having been caught, James watched Sirius in the corner of his eye, at the ready to create a distraction if Sinclair came back. But there appeared to be no need for his vigilance, as Sirius had somehow already penned his reply, and was charming the paper to fly directly back over to him.

Except it never landed. Instead, Sinclair was right beside his desk and caught the note.

James felt the blood rushing to his face at the same time Sirius shouted, "Hey, that's private!"

"That's interesting, Mr Black," Sinclair called back before she flicked her gaze up to James. "I think I might have a quick read, if that's alright, Mr Potter?"

She didn't wait for an answer. She dove right in, pulling back the first intricate fold of the paper, that came easily untucked. Shit. Sirius obviously hadn't recast the Sticking Charm. He threw a mental Stinging Hex at his friend, wishing for the hundredth time that he could cast non-verbally, let alone wandlessly.

A crinkling of paper let him know that the second flap was untucked now and all James could do was watch in horror. He was half aware that he was holding his breath, and that he'd shrunk as far down as he could into his seat, wishing that the floor would just swallow him whole.

Another crunch of paper came and he couldn't take it anymore. The torture, the suspense or whatever it was that Sinclair was doing here, it had him caving like Franky-first-year being asked if they'd brought in any dung-bombs on the first day of the term. "It's just mine, Professor. Just a note to myself about pick up lines I can use. Sirius suggested some to me and I wrote them down and…" he trailed off, as he became aware of just how loud he was speaking. Well, more like shouting.

And the whole class was staring at him, along with Sinclair, who was staring down her nose at him. "Is that so, Mr Potter? Then care to explain why Mr Black sent this note all the way across the room to your desk?"

Shit; she had him there. He bit the inside of his cheek, using the pain as a tool to hold back the nervous babble that just wanted to burst forth. He swallowed down the lump and forced himself to answer "I was getting him to check the pickup lines, and make sure they sounded good enough. Honestly, it was all me, Professor."

She raised an eyebrow and gave him a look that he knew spelt out his doom. "In that case, you won't mind if you stay behind at the end of the lesson? Just you, as you were writing to yourself, apparently."

"Yes, Professor," he mumbled, letting his head fall onto the desk with a heavy thud and trying to ignore the penetrating stares of his classmates and the looks of annoyance that he knew his mates were boring into the back of his head.

Tucking the note into her pocket, the rest of the lesson went on without any further interruptions, most students cowed into staying quiet. At least until she started to hand out the homework that she'd assigned to them the last lesson. Well, it was more like a revision quiz that she'd owled out to them after the lesson, wanting to quiz them on how much they did know.

Moans and groans were sounding throughout the classroom, in horror and protest of their grades, it seemed. To be frank, James thought that his classmates were all being overdramatic saps. It's not like they had to stay behind after class and miss out on a free period, did they?

Or so he thought until he got his own paper back. His eyebrows shot straight up to the roof, and he took his glasses off and gave them a clean to double check what he was seeing. But no, there it was. In solid red ink, in neat and concise handwriting, was a ' T '.

A quick survey of the room revealed that his friends must have gotten similar results: Sirius looked like the paper was made of dirt, Pete looked depressed and Remus—he did a double take at Remus.

His friend looked paler than the moon (pun intended). Merlin, he looked like all the life had been sucked out of him. He tried to make eye contact, but Moony's eyes were fixed on the paper that Sinclair had handed back as he continued to stare.

Right then, Sinclair made the announcement that the lesson was over. "Right, this seems like a good place to leave it today."

James kept an eye on Moony as he started to pack up, fumbling his books into his bag. He tried to get a glimpse of what was on Moony's paper. He must have gotten a 'T' as well for him to be looking like he swallowed a cup of dragon piss.

James barely heard Sinclair calling out, "Please make sure that read up on Chapter Five. There may or may not be a Pop Quiz tomorrow." The words did register in his mind somewhat and he couldn't help his automatic reaction of, "Ugh, why?"

Several others also echoed his own protest: "Come on Professor, that's not fair."

Ignoring her students, Sinclair just continued to lay it on. "Oh. Duelling Club will also be on later tonight in the Charms Classroom. If anyone is interested, please feel free to attend and also bring your friends if you like. Please, only students from Year Five or above."

With that, she let them go and the class got up in one whole mass, ready and undoubtedly eager to make an exit. James made eye contact with Sirius as he started to rise up from his desk, and they nodded at each other as they both headed towards Remus, ready to find out what was wrong, but to also use the crowd of students so that they could try and escape.

* * *

Hermione leaned against her desk as she watched the students shuffling out of the classroom at a snail's pace. She knew that the majority of the students had Potions after this with Slughorn, who was certainly a lot friendlier than her teacher had been - nobody was keen to spend their afternoon cutting up flobberworms and pulling apart pixie wings.

Thinking of the black-haired potioneer, he darted by, heading out with a gaggle of fellow Slytherins, a sea of green and silver huddled together. Across from them, the Gryffindors sneered.

She zeroed in on a particular mop of untidy black hair that was trying to sneak out and let out a heavy sigh. She wasn't in the mood for giving chase. "Potter!" she snapped, hoping her tone would be enough. But the four Gryffindors kept shuffling forward, ignoring her and trying to wrangle past the rest of the crowd and make it to the door before they were caught.

That did it. Her patience had already reached its limit and she wasn't going to pull her punches. So, Hermione flicked her wand toward the group, muttering a Leg-Lock-Jinx under her breath and tried to fight back the smile as they all came to an abrupt halt.

"Hey, what gives?"

"Move it, Sirius!"

"I can't!"

"What did you do?"

"What did I do—"

Walking up to the group, Hermione crossed her arms and waited for them to notice her. Remus, the wonderfully observant and most level-headed of them, was the first to notice her presence. His eyes darted to the wand in her hand.

Putting two and two together, Remus blindly reached back behind him and tugged on his friend's cloak. "James," he hissed.

"What, Moony?" James growled, rounding on his friend. "If you haven't noticed I'm a bit—" His words faltered as he also spotted Hermione. "Oh."

Hermione quirked an eyebrow. "I remember asking you to stay behind, Mr Potter."

Sirius answered for his friend. "You did, but since we have a lesson to be getting to, Professor—"

"You have a free period after this, Mr Black, which you are free to attend, same as Mr Pettigrew and Mr Lupin." She waved her wand and the three boys were released from the Jinx. "Mr Potter, however—"

"Bloody hell," cried Peter, looking down at his legs that were now capable of movement. "What did you just do?"

Hermione smirked. "Non-verbal casting, Mr Pettigrew. Something we will be going over in Duelling Club tonight if you want to learn more."

Sirius snorted. "Yeah, right. Pete would never be caught dead at that lame meet up."

Peter's face, that had been shining with enthusiasm, fell at the dismissal, and it broke Hermione's heart. Sure, he might become the reason for her universe going to hell, but she could still try and give him a chance for redemption.

"I think that is Mr Pettigrew's choice, Mr Black," she snapped back, unable to help the little bit of venom that leaked into her voice. She hated to admit it, but she did enjoy the look of shock on the boy's face.

Not giving him a chance to reply again, she tilted her head towards her desk and locked eyes with James. "Now, if your friends don't mind, I believe that we need to have a conversation, Mr Potter."

She watched the boy glance nervously from his friends back to her, before he heaved a sigh and gave his friends an uneasy nod. Getting the message, they all sent him last lingering looks of concerning, Sirius shooting her a venomous glance, before they headed out, the door slamming shut behind them.

Leaving just her and James Potter alone in the classroom.

Merlin, how had she thought that this was going to be a good idea?

* * *

As soon as the door clicked shut, James started to trudge up to the blackboard at the front of the classroom, expecting to be assigned lines. He threw his bag down onto his desk, and expect Sinclair at the front of the classroom.

Sinclair did no such thing. Rather, she paused as she passed the desk he'd sat at. His stomach dropped when he realised that she was looking at his book, that had slipped out of his bag.

The book that he'd been planning to get stuck into this free period, and the book that she now had in hand. The text itself wasn't anything dangerous; not to anyone but him. Because only James Potter found Figuring out French: Guide Des Débutants to be threatening.

Seeing all of the damned grammar rules and the fancy marks above the letters? It made him want to return the blasted thing to Remus and forget about his grand plan, but he was committed to Operation Woo Lily.

Sinclair turned around and was giving him a weird look. Rubbing his forehead, James held his other hand out to take the book from the Professor. "Sorry, that's mine. I must have left it on my desk, I'll just—"

He awkwardly took the book from her and tucked it into his bag. When he looked back up at her, he was completely unprepared for what she said next: "Ah, tu apprends à parler français! C'est merveilleux!"

James stared at her blankly. He knew she was speaking to him in French, but he hadn't the foggiest fucking idea what she was saying.

And she kept going. "Vous ne parlez pas français?"

Her lilting tones made no sense and a tight bubble of panic was to beginning to form in his chest. His mind scrambled to try and decipher what she'd said.

It sounded like a question, he reasoned. Maybe, it was? Gah, she's looking at you, Potter. Um, Merlin's saggy sack, what can I say in French?

Panic overwhelming him, he replied with the only word that he knew. "Oui."

Sinclair burst into a huge smile and he knew he'd made a horrible mistake. With an excited clap, she spewed out even more rapid-fire French. "Donc tu ne peux pas me comprendre? Et vous pensez que je suis le meilleur professeur de tous les temps et vous aimez vous embrasser dans le miroir?"

He blinked. Nope. And no. James wasn't even going to pretend that time. "Er, what?"

She let out a loud throaty laugh and waved the book at him. "Have you even cracked this book open yet?"

He rubbed the back of his neck as he felt his ears going red. "Look, I had no idea what you were saying to me and I'm just trying to learn a few phrases...nothing too fancy."

She scoffed. "How is learning French in full 'fancy'?"

"'Cause I'm not wanting to have conversations in it, I just need it…" he trailed off, unwilling to admit to a teacher of all people that he was learning French to win over Lily Evans. Who hadn't been in class today, now that he thought about it...

"And why might that be?" she pried.

"Aren't you meant to be giving me detention or something?" he threw back, desperate to change the topic. "Not interrogating me, because I do have duties I need to be attending to Professor, Head Boy and all."

Her lips quirked into an odd smile. "You're the first student that I've seen that's keen for detention. I was just going to let you off with a warning, but if you really want…"

"No, no!" he said in a rush.

"Good. Just making sure. I mean, it might not hurt. I'd even let you use the time to study French," she said, and it took a bit for it to click that she was teasing him.

He rubbed the back of the neck and looked anywhere but Sinclair. "Ah, thanks but no thanks, Professor."

"James, really, why are you learning French?" she asked, sounding so sincere and caring, that his eyes trailed of their own volition to meet her gaze, and he was sucked in before he knew it.

Uttering the truth before he even realised the words had left his mouth. "Because I want to use it to get Evans to like me."

What he didn't expect next was for Sinclair to burst out into laughter. Full peals of joy and laughter. For the second time that day, he was steamrolled with embarrassment.

"If that's all, I'll be heading to the study period now," he said, blood rushing to his cheeks. His pride not able to take another hit, and not wanting to stay around any longer, he made to turn and bolt out of the classroom, when a hand clutched at his bag and tugged him back.

Sinclair had quickly sobered up and looked contrite as she apologised, "Oh, James, I'm sorry for laughing. It's just, you surely know that if you're trying to impress Miss Evans that there are better ways to go about it? Easier, even, certainly easier than French."

James was dumbfounded. "There is?"

"Merlin, yes. What on earth makes you think you need to learn French in the first place? I mean, don't you want Lily to like you for you, James?"

He scuffed his toe on the floor. This was so fucking awkward, but he did realise this might be his only chance to get advice from the female perspective. "Yeah, course I do, but I want her to think I'm mature and stuff and girls like the older guys that know French and stuff so…" He shrugged, unsure of what else to say.

She sighed and gave him a sad smile, before she ran a hand through her hair, her sleeve falling down as it did. A glimmer of silver caught his eye and he leaned forward to get a better look. And then it was gone—

What? Was that a Glamour Charm? He narrowed his eyes, trying to get a better look, but it was too late.

The sleeve fell back into place as she crossed her arms over her chest. "Look, James, if you want Lily to like you, my suggestion is to be yourself. The James Potter that exists without the influence of his friends."

He recoiled at her statement. "What's wrong with my friends?" he asked hotly.

"Nothing, nothing," she said, her expression softening as she spoke again, "just, they take the attention away from you, you have to realise."

"That's rubbish, there is no way they would do that," James insisted without thinking about what he was saying. And although he loathed to admit it, there was some truth to her words, a truth that he had been trying to deny for years now, a truth that he was not going to succumb to today.

Sinclair held her hands up in surrender. "Alright, alright. I am sorry if I've overstepped my mark."

James noticed that as she raised her hands the glimmer from before was visible again and this time he knew without a doubt that he was looking at a Glamouring Charm. Which just begged the question: Why did Sinclair have one on her left arm?

He didn't have any time to ponder the mystery as she started to speak again. "If you're still set on learning French, Mr Potter, let me know. I can give you some lessons if you'd like," she offered, with a warm smile that made the edges of her eyes crinkle.

"Uh, thanks?" he replied, although it was more of a question. What the hell was he supposed to say to that? After he'd just spent the whole lesson talking smack about her?

Oh. His eyes went down to the note that she still hand in her right hand. She followed his gaze and raised the note up between them. "I think it would be best we got rid of this, hm?" she asked, smiling before she cast yet another wordless spell that had the paper catching fire in her hand.

Blue flames licked the tips of her fingers in a mesmerising dance that had James enthralled. It was fire, but happier? If that was possible. What was even more amazing that it didn't appear to be causing her any pain or injure her in any way.

"How?" he asked, pointing at her hand, too gobsmacked to ask anything else.

"Magic," was all she said, along with a wink. "Which is what you should try using if you want to get into Lily's good books instead of pick up lines from your best mate," she added with a chuckle.

James opened his mouth to respond but didn't get the chance, as Sinclair cut in over him. "Now, I think that I've kept you for long enough. Just remember, any more notes and I will be reading them out loud for the entire class to enjoy."

James nodded in agreement before he spun around and bolted out of the classroom, heading back to the safety of the dorm where he could process whatever the fuck it was that had just happened.

He didn't make it two steps past the portrait-hole before his friends beckoned to him. "Prongs! You're alive!" Peter shouted out, words slightly slurred, the firewhiskey in front of him the likely culprit.

"Welcome back, mate. You put Sinclair in her place, I bet!" Sirius crowed.

"Yeah," James mumbled, as he walked up to the spare chair at the table and sat down in it. He didn't really pay any attention to his friends as they filled him in on what he'd missed during the free period, his mind too preoccupied with what he'd seen and been told in the Defence classroom.

Sirius waving his hand in front of him snapped him out of his thoughts. "What's with the face?"

"Huh?"

"Sinclair didn't actually give you detention, did she?" Peter asked, leaning forward.

James shook his head. "No, no. Just…" He didn't know how to put it into words, what'd happened.

"What?" Sirius prompted.

Deciding it would be better to keep it to himself, for now, James waved his friends off. "Nothing, I just thought I saw something and I didn't. Don't worry about it." He gave a weak smile and hoped that Sirius, for once in his life, would just let it go and not ask any more questions.

"Now you've done it," Pete snickered, shuffling his exploding snap deck.

"Done want?" James widened his eyes and placed a hand over his heart. "What are you accusing me of Pete?"

Sirius snorted. "Drop the act, James. What happened? What did your four eyes see?"

James scowled at the old joke. "Fine, since I know you won't drop it and you're as bad as a dog with a bone" —he smirked to himself at that joke— "I think I saw a Glamour Charm on Sinclair's left arm…"

Sirius' eyes went wide. "You what?"

James groaned. "Do I really have to repeat myself?"

"Depends. Have you been snorting—"

"Fuck off, Pads," he spat, before taking a swig straight from the bottle of fire whiskey. "I know what I saw, I even double checked if it was a smudge on my glasses—and it wasn't. I know a Glamour Charm when I see one, given how many you've used over the years to cover up your spots, but she did have one."

Sirius completely ignored the bait, and instead gnawed on his lip and appeared to be in deep thought, before he asked, "You're sure that it was her left arm, Prongs?"

James frowned, and hung his head as he answered, "It was."

"You know what that means, right, fellas?" Sirius asked, glancing at his friends.

"No…" Peter said, sounding unsure.

Sirius held his breath, using the silence for a dramatic effect that made James want to roll his eyes, before his friend finally burst out with, "She's a Death Eater." He held his hands above his head at his grand revelation.

The cards fell from Peter's hands, scattering all over the floor, and James choked on his spit. Sirius hands slowly came back down onto the table, disappointment spreading across his face since he didn't get the reaction that he was after.

"Mate…" James started to say, "I don't think—"

"Seriously, Prongs, think about it." Sirius held up his hand and began to count, "First, she is in a Dark store buying Dark shit. Second, she just happens to start working here this year? Third, she has a Glamour Charm? Right where a Dark Mark is meant to be? I mean, come on clear sign that she is covering up her connection to You-Know-Who."

"No way! She's too nice!" Peter said, jumping in to defend the Professor.

"Ah, Pete," Sirius sighed shaking his head, "We all know that you're keen on the Professor, but the signs are there. She's a Death Eater."

James again didn't know what to say. Sirius' logic kind of did make sense. The Glamour Charm and the fact that she'd been shopping in Knockturn Alley were both signs that she could be a Death Eater, but for Dumbledore to hire her?

No, there was no way that she could fool Dumbledore, let alone McGonagall at that.

James slumped further down into his chair as his two friends duked it out, arguing about whether Sinclair was a Death Eater or not. James himself didn't know what to think. And it really fucking sucked.

He was yanked out of his brooding by the bell-like laughter of his future-wife. She'd just strolled into the Common Room, and the atmosphere instantly brightened and the air itself seemed to spark with life. That was one of the many things that James loved about Lily; her magnetism and ability to make things interesting just by being.

He sighed, full of whimsy, as he watched her glide across the room, effortlessly graceful to boot. Merlin, she was a dream. He propped a hand under his chin and watched away, loving how the light caught on her fiery red hair and made her eyes glow like emeralds from the deepest reaches of the earth. She was the incarnation of beauty and—

Pete was shoving him, ruining his daydream. "James, mate! You're drooling."

Snapping back to reality, he quickly wiped away any moisture from his chin, and straightened up his collar and started to vainly try and tidy up his hair, although getting it to lay flat was never possible without a cauldron's worth of Sleek-Easy.

"Give it up, mate," Sirius chimed in, raising the now near-empty bottle of firewhiskey at him. "She's not interested in anything between her legs unless it's made of leather and paper. No way is your quill going into that inkpot." He chortled at his own joke and drew a few sharp looks from around the room, including Lily's.

The red-head always did have a gift for being able to sense the presence of contraband goods. Her green eyes zeroed in on Sirius' hand and her upper lip curled into a sneer. Catching Lily's eye, Sirius had to go and make it worse. "Evans, why don't you unwad your knickers and come and join us for a drink, yeah?"

"In your dreams, Black," she shrieked from across the room, but it still sounded like music to James' ears - slightly pitchy, but still wonderful.

"Nah, more like, James'," Sirius threw back, still chuckling away at how hilarious he was, while James felt his neck and face go aflame.

Spotting James for the first time, Lily stomped over to them, coming to a stop in front of the table, hands on her hips and glowing with determination. Her Head Girl badge shone brightly against her black robes, and her milky skin looked like she'd been dipped in moonlight.

James grinned at her as she continued to rant at Sirius about responsibility and setting a better example for the younger years before she rounded on him. "Well, what're you going to do about it, Potter? Other than sitting there and grinning like a half-brained loon."

"Ah—"

She held up her hand to silence him. "Don't even bother, Potter. I'll handle it," she said before she pulled her wand out and waved it at the bottle, making it disappear.

All three boys' jaws dropped as Lily put her wand away. Sirius was glancing back and forth between his empty hand and her, while James was in awe and Pete, again, had lost control of the deck of cards that were exploding on their own.

"How did you do that?" Pete cried out, pointing at Lily.

She smirked and looked down at her nails with disinterest. "Non-verbal magic. Learned it by going to the Duelling Club that Professor Sinclair is teaching." She raised a dainty brow before she added, "Of course, if you bothered to go, you'd be able to do it too."

With that, and a flip of her long red mane, she was gone, stalking back over to her group. James again had his daydreams of their wedding ruined by his mates.

"Blimey," Sirius said, running a hand through his hair. "That's insane what she just did. And Sinclair's teaching that to students? Merlin, this just proves it even more, James."

James licked his lips, still unsure on what he should think. If only there was a way to find out for sure. To prove if she was a Death Eater. He must have thought out loud because Sirius rose up from his chair and pronounced, "That's bloody brilliant, mate. Right, I think we go with a prank and that way it doesn't look too bad, yeah?"

Pete nodded mutely, never one to disagree with anything Sirius said. His friend then looked to him for confirmation, grey eyes shining with delight and enthusiasm. He managed to force himself into nodding his own head, and Sirius clapped his hands with glee as he started to lay out the plan for them.

James wasn't really listening though. His mind was spinning so fast it was making him sick. Or maybe it was the guilt—that they were about to do something awful to a Professor that had been unusually kind to him mere moments ago. But he had to know, was she a Death Eater or not?

He just hoped he didn't regret finding out.


End file.
